Hunters
by Averill-of-Loup
Summary: Katniss and Gale post-Mockingjay in ruins of District 12. Please R&R. M for some language and intimacy.
1. Chapter 1

I can't stand it. Gale is slipping. I can see his blood seeping around the rags of his shirt and pouring over his sides. He refuses to scream or cry, for which I'm grateful, but I can feel tears coursing down my own cheeks. His back is turned to me but I see him raise his head and he glances at me with peripheral vision before they whip him again. Each crack is like a crack in my heart and echoes through my ears. I am straining at the guard holding my arms, furious at the smirk on his face.

I have to help Gale, I can't think about the guard holding me, how his hands aren't just on my arms anymore but my waist and my shoulders. I turn to him and smile, registering the surprise on his face for a split second before I kiss him. He tastes bitter but kisses back viciously. I can feel bile rising in my throat but I move a hand around his side and turn him so my back is to the wall. Still kissing him and groping at his belt I can see Gale's face over the guard's shoulder. He looks appalled, shocked and the mixture of anger and hurt is enough to make me weep. I grasp the knife in the guard's belt and while he feels it slipping from his clothes, he is too late. I plunge it into his side, sliding it up into his ribs.

His hands are bruising my forearms as he gasps for air and looks down at his wound. He is falling to his knees and I kick him out the way. Gale is about to be whipped again and while I see the whip raised I run and throw myself over Gale's body. I feel him shudder in pain but in a second I barely notice because a blinding pain is setting my back on fire. I stifle a shriek when it comes again. I can feel Gale under me, trying to push me to the side but my fingers and gripping his shoulders, slipping in his blood. I turn around and catch the whip in my side, taking the moment it wraps around my waist to plunge the knife in this next guard.

I fall to the side, sitting in my own pain for a moment as the guard groans, the one that held me already unconscious in a vivid scarlet pool. I hear Gale shuffling on the ground and grab him around the arm. He is too frail to stand but he must if we are to get away.

The cell is unlocked and an empty passage takes us outside to the smell of damp fresh earth and the brightness of sunshine. Here I can see Gale's full injuries. His bruises, scrapes, his burns and most horrifying of all, the red lashes on his back. I dimly remember screaming as they beat him and whipped him and as I choke back tears they get stuck in my raw throat.

Gale winces with every step but I force him onward, aware of the pain but desperate to get him home.

When we reach home I sit him in the tub. My first instinct is to embrace him, feel his warmth, but he is warm with fever and his blood is filling the tub. I fill a bucket with water and pour it over him. Grime and blood pours off of him and he shivers. Tears are streaking my face again and lugging the buckets through the door hurts the lashes on my back but my pain is nowhere near as awful as his. I fill the tub with three more buckets and begin to gently rub his skin. Slowly I peel off old skin and grime, clean his cuts, and untangle his hair. He is shivering and his eyes stay mostly closed but when they open he focuses them away from me. I gather as many dry towels as I can and pick him up out the tub. He won't move and I dry his hair, torso and arms myself.

"Gale," I say softly. He turns toward me and cracks his eyes open, gazing at me. "You have to change out of your wet clothes." I put my hand on his forehead, under his dark wet locks and feel heat radiating from his skin. "I can't do it but wrap yourself in this towel and come to my room. I can find you some more clothes." He is shivering so violently in the bathroom so I lead him into my room, which is warmer and let him change there while I get some of my father's old clothes. They smell like my father, like the forest, and I vaguely realize that's what Gale smells like.

When I've returned Gale is sitting on the bed under a layer of towels. I take one towel off and pull the shirt over his head, rubbing my hands over his arms. I'm not sure if this is helping since my hands are probably icy but his goose bumps are going away.

"Gale, you have to change your pants," I say and shove them into his hand. He nods but does not move. "Gale, please." I'm trying not to sob but I can't stop a tear of two from rolling down my cheeks.

I turn around and hear the bed creek as he stands up. I blush and feel the heat rise in my cheeks when I think that just behind me Gale is taking off his pants. When I hear the bed creak again I turn around and find he is sitting on the edge. I go to him, reach over his body and pull the covers down. I push his feet onto the bed and pull the covers back up. His back must hurt so I roll him onto his front and lift his shirt.

I bite my cheek hard enough to draw blood but it's the only way to stop myself crying out. Though the cuts have been cleaned they are raw and red and the skin ragged. I trace my fingers around one and feel him tremble. This is not what I wanted it to be like; the first time I touched his bareback. I know of some herbs that would help him so I take a quick trip to the kitchen. I come back with a gritty ointment that feels cool. I hope it spreads easily; I'd rather not rub his wounds too roughly. Gently I apply the ointment over each mark. He tenses for a moment, and then seems to relax. For the first time he speaks. "Thank you."

I roll him onto his side and check for anything else but the ointment won't help his bruises and his scrapes are already healing. He has a fever but right now he can't think of that, he's too weak. I'll give him medicine when he wakes up. _If he wakes up._ The thought pushes itself to the front of my mind before I can stop it but I shake it off because of course he'll survive, if he doesn't I'll go insane.

I stroke his hair and murmur quietly. "Sleep now, you can sleep. I'll be right here, just remember," over and over. Eventually his breathing slows and he does sleep but I stay and brush his hair a while longer.

As it gets darker I realize I must be a mess. Making sure he is completely asleep I slip to the bathroom where the tub is still filled with a mixture of dirt, blood and water. I empty it and get one more bucket of water, just enough to scrub my skin red. I would like to put ointment on my back but I cannot reach without flexing the lashes. I pull my hands through my hair and change into an old dress of my mothers. I return to the room swiftly, afraid Gale will wake up without me there, but he is still fast asleep. I want to lie down but the bed is too small to sleep next to him without touching his back. I resign myself to sitting in the chair next to the bed and lay my head on the bed, my faces inches from his. He is beautiful, even bruised and cut. I'm so tempted to kiss his cheek, his lips, but I don't want to wake him.

After some time of watching his eyelids flutter, I close my own eyes and fall asleep.

I wake up to heat, heat on my forehead and puffs of hot air on my face. When I open my eyes I find the heat coming from Gale, from his forehead and his breath. He is looking at me with his wide grey eyes and for a moment we simply stare. Then he smiles and I grin cautiously back. I sit up and stretch and he tries to sit up to but I force him down.

"Your back needs to heal," I say harshly.

He lies down on the pillows but he looks far from content. "Catnip, you didn't have to sleep in the chair. Your back must be killing yo-" suddenly he stops and his expression turns frantic. "Your back, Katniss they whipped you. Why did you-"

I cut him off, "Gale, stop it. I'm worried about you. I'm going to get you some medicine for that fever but you can't move around for a while."

He turns angry. "I can move; I'm not an invalid. You shouldn't have let them do that."

I feel fury rising inside of me, as well as tears though I didn't think I had any more. "I shouldn't have? They were torturing you Gale; it was awful. They wouldn't stop."

"They were torturing you too! That guard had his hands everywhere and…" he trails off, his face red and his fists balled and I feel ashamed, knowing he's thinking of the kiss I gave the guard.

"I'm fine. You just have to take it easy." I place my hands on his until they relax.

He doesn't say anything until I have left and come back with medicine for his fever and a glass of water.

"How is your back?"

I sigh, I really don't want to talk about this but there's no point in avoiding it. "Fine," I lie. Truly it hurts but I can't imagine it hurts anywhere near as badly as it does for him.

"Let me help," Gale says firmly.

I shake my head angrily and hold out another dose of medicine but he puts the glass down.

"Let me help, Catnip."

We glare at each other and my face burns but I nod. He takes the next dose and I turn around. I undo the first two buttons of my dress and hope that's enough for him to see the least hurt part of my back. But he wants to see all of it and he undoes another button. Then another and another. Before I know it he had undone all the buttons. I feel my stomach fluttering and heat in my cheeks as he runs his hands over the cuts. I try not to arch away from the intense pain and pleasure he's giving me. To distract us both I hold up the pot of ointment. "This helps."

He says nothing but takes the pot and gently rubs its contents over my cuts, which are instantly relieved. When he's done he starts doing up the buttons, faster than when he undid then.

I stand up and take a few moments to adjust my clothes, not wanting to look him in the eyes. When I do I notice he too is red.

"Don't ever do that again Kanitss," he says in a low voice.

My jaw almost drops. "It was nothing Gale, they were hurting you!"

"I mean it. You could have been killed."

"You would have been first!" As soon as the words are out I regret them but he doesn't look angrier, just… frightened? He was scared for me.

"You had your own problems," he says and I see his gaze lingering on my waist and lips, where the guard had been touching me. I remember those touches and shift uncomfortably.

"You should have something to eat." I say quietly because it's either that or I scream or I cry. I leave before he can say anymore.

A week has passed. I let Gale out of bed yesterday, though keeping him in until then was a chore. He wanted to help with everything, the cooking and hunting. The ointment has kept his cuts from getting infected but he will always have scars. All but the bruise on his shoulder has faded.

There are minor scars on my own back and one the winds around my stomach. Gale put ointment on them twice more and each time I swear my skin was trembling.

He and I are fine. We tried hunting yesterday and both got tired too quickly. After days of inactivity it wore us out and we had a light dinner of half a squirrel each along with some wild onions and mint. This morning we had bread, slightly stale.

There's been tension between us; neither of us wants to mention how we were hurt and how we watched the other being hurt. We shared the bed the last two nights. I did not touch Gale the first night but last night, with out backs turned to each other I lay closer to his warmth and let him take my hand in his. Neither of us mentioned it this morning.

Gale is out hunting. I've been here all morning, going through the old clothes, looking through what's useful and what isn't and pouring over mother's old apothecary records. I can hear him though; he's just come in the door. I glance up from my spot on the couch to see him smiling, two rabbits slung over his shoulder and a basket of greens with a layer of strawberries in his hand.

I smile too, pleased to see the food but also pleased to see him. Seeing him scared and hurt had thrown me off. I wasn't used to seeing Gale that way and I was glad he was strong again.

I put down the book and helped him skin the rabbits. They would be for dinner, along with the strawberries and some mint tea.

"I found them in the snares," he explained.

"Still can't catch them with my bow?" I tease lightly. He scowls but I nudge him.

We talk easily, about the woods, about the game. I mention what I've learned in apothecary. It's so easy to talk with him, so familiar. Every pause is filled with comfort. When we are done we retire to the living room and sit on the couch. It isn't until a long silence in which we are sipping tea that I notice Gale's cheeks are red. Instinctively I put my hand to his forehead and feel the heat.

"Gale, you're sick," I say, frowning.

"No Katniss. I'm not," and he pushes my hand away. But I know better.

"Gale, you are. Stop pretending." I lean closer, leaning over him with my hand on his forehead, then his cheeks. He's warmer than he was a week ago, though the fever had gone. That was odd, he wouldn't suddenly get sick again, unless… Fear rips through me.

"Turn around," I order him. He looks reluctant but slowly turns. I raise his shirt and see one of the cuts on his back is red and purple, not a good sign. I immediately become angry, then curse myself, and the tears that spring to my eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I rage. "Your cut is worse, we need to do something, couldn't you not let your stupid pride get in the way this once!" To my surprise he doesn't fight back. I am about to turn away but I didn't realize he has a grip on my wrist. He pulls me back.

"Hey, it's not like you're fine either. Your cuts aren't fully healed are they?" I blush because he's right but I know it isn't the same. I also know he hasn't forgiven me yet for covering his body with mine, to take those last few whips for him. I feel his fingers pushing up the hem of my shirt and I turn, twisting to get away but he is holding me strongly.

I am not even trying to hide how I tremble as his fingers graze over my back. But they don't stop at my cuts. His hands are under my shirt on my shoulders, my ribs, and my neck. His hands are warm and I feel my resolve slipping away. I turn to Gale and see his eyes; his face, unreadable and I hope I'm not blushing too hard.

It's slow and steady when our lips touch but he is warm and tender and his hands are already on me. Mine are quickly on him, seeking his warmth and finding it in his chest where I trace his ribs and collar bones.

We break away from the kiss but only for a second. This second kiss is different. I am pushing my face closer to his and he is gasping into the kiss. I'm bringing my body closer, unable to control it now as I reposition my legs on either side of him and pull at his shirt. He is pulling at my shirt as well, and running his tongue along my lip. I hesitate for a second then open my mouth and gasp when our tongues collide. We don't stop, our hands roaming and our lips wrestling. I inhale as he exhales and we are kissing so long and with so much force I start feeling dizzy.

As we kiss he lies back and I hover above him. He has the advantage and begins pulling my shirt up but I put my hand on his and force him to stop. I can't. He has to go first or I'll be too scared to move. He looks up at me and from the confusion on his face I can tell he's misinterpreted. I kiss him passionately, enjoying the purring in my chest and I begin to pull at his shirt, roughly. He takes the hint and sits up slightly, enough for me to pull his shirt off. I'm turning red, having just undressed Gale. He gets me back though, he's already trying to pry my shirt off and I'm enjoying teasing him about it. Eventually though I feel his touches ebb so I pull my shirt off and enjoy the renewed vigor with which he touches me. His kisses are getting more fevered and they aren't just on my lips anymore. They're rough trails up and down my neck, on my collarbone and going lower.

The fear is sudden and overwhelming. Panic rises up in my chest and I push myself off of him and scramble to the opposite side of the couch, breathing heavily. I am now aware of what I must look like, with messy hair from his fingers being tangled in it and red cheeks. I self consciously fold my arms over my chest and desperately locate my shirt. I can feel Gale's eye on me but I don't look up until I have my shirt held over my chest and my knees balled up to it.

His expression is unreadable. I can't tell if he's angry of sad or hurt or confused. I know I'm scared and confused and I can't figure out why but the last thing I wanted to do was what I just did. I pushed him away, not just with my hands. His chest is rising up and down and my fingers still have warm memories of it. His hair sticks up in places and he is red and breathless, like me.

Staring at the floor I slip the shirt over my head as quickly as my trembling fingers will allow. I can feel my breathing getting tighter and tears building up behind my eyelids, I need to get out of the house. My instincts are screaming at me to run from the walls that are getting closer and closer…

I stand up. Gale still hasn't said a word and I provide no explanation as I run to the door and outside. I don't stop running until I've dived beneath the fence and into the forest. I take several leaping steps in before I walk, and several more steps before I stop and slump against a tree.

I'm sobbing now and dry heaving. I can't figure out why. Why did I run from Gale, from the boy I had trusted for years, more than anyone? From his gentle fingers that were only responding to mine.

I know the answer. Because he's so close. Like Prim was. And Peeta. And Mother. But why now? Why did I push him away now? Who knows what kind of pain I just caused. I may have forever driven a wedge between us and it's that thought that immobilizes me and leaves me choking and crying in the forest for what feels like hours.

I go through periods of missing Gale around me, then feeling sorry for myself, and being angry with myself. I cry out loud for Prim and Peeta and mother, but never for Gale. If he heard me and came running for nothing… I just keep hurting him over and over. I was never good, for him or Peeta or anyone.

I can tell when it gets dark but I'm not ready to return yet. It isn't cold yet, just a little warm with a cool breeze. It pushes my hair out of my face as I lie down because I'm feeling nauseous. As I wait for it to subside I notice how soft the forest floor is and before I drift off I vaguely marvel at how exhausted crying nonstop can make you…

Something warm is lifting me. That's all I register in my brief seconds of semi consciousness.

When I wake up I panic, remembering I fell asleep in the forest and it takes a minute of gripping the blankets and staring at the sunlit room around me to realize I'm home, not on the mossy woods floor. I'm wearing the clothes I wore the night before and my hair hasn't improved, still tangled but there are no tear marks on my cheeks and my eyelashes are dry. I braid my hair down my back slowly, putting off the moment when I'll walk downstairs and find Gale. Gale who no doubt carried me from the woods. Despite my running out on him. Despite my disappearing a whole day. Despite the pain it may have caused his back. And since my bed is empty, despite deciding he would sleep on the couch.

Downstairs he is in the kitchen. My stomach rumbles and I remember we never ate those rabbits from yesterday. They are roasting now on the stove and the strawberries are cut up in a bowl. I stand in the doorway until he looks up, but he pushes the bowl of strawberries toward me and turns his attention back to the rabbits. I take one and chew but it feels and tastes like glue.

I stand there, eating berry after berry until the rabbit it done. He loads half of one onto a plate for me, and another half for himself. I don't feel like eating it but since he made it I sit down and force it down my throat.

The silence we eat in makes me sick and I actually breath in deeply to force back the nausea.

"Gale," I begin because we both know we'll have to talk about it at some point. Apparently he isn't ready just yet because he grabs both our empty plates and puts them in the sink.

"We need more bread," he says stiffly as he slides his jacket on and leaves. I don't say anything to bring him back, though I know he's waiting for me to. What can I say that won't end in tears or an argument? I still need time to think.

I stay in and resume going through the apothecary book. Gale is out longer than he should be, getting bread. But I can't blame him for stalling. I didn't really want to return to the house after what happened either.

When he does come through the door though I've already eaten half of my nails out of concern. I stand up immediately and while I haven't forgotten the tension between us I can't help shouting at him.

"Where were you?"

He looks up, a little surprised but more wearily as if I have tantrums often he simply has to endure.

"I went to get bread, Catnip."

I can tell he's trying to placate me, using my nickname, but I refuse to be calm. "If doesn't take that long to get bread. I was worried and…" And for some reason I have a hard time finishing that sentence because I am suddenly thinking of what would happen if Gale hadn't come back at all. I realize that dread that has been in my stomach all day was the feeling that I had already pushed him away for good and the fear he would never come back.

Gale is crossing over to me and I try to wipe the fear from my face. I won't let him touch me because I know my resolve will break down and I don't want to cry in front of him.

"I was just out for a while, that's all." He says it gently and in that moment we both know we'll never openly talk about last night.

"Let me check your back," I say quietly. For a second it doesn't look like he's heard me, then he turns around and lets me lift his shirt.

I bite my lips and stop my hands from curving around the definitions of his back and abdomen. It looks better, but not much.

"You're taking the bed tonight." He nods but I can tell he's disappointed we won't be sharing it. I'm disappointed too but if it led to another kiss and I pushed him away again…

We don't have much of a dinner, a few slices of bread each. I eat less than him because I'm still feeling nauseous. I hope the feeling goes away, I'm not sure if I can sleep like this. When the sun has just set we are both ready for sleep. We both want an escape from the silence.

I sleep on the couch after making sure he's in my room. The nausea ebbs but it takes a while for me to fall asleep.

It's deep sleep, even when I'm dreaming. It isn't a scary dream. I may be running but I feel a kind of empty emotionless adrenaline. When I trip I jerk awake. In the middle of the night the house is quiet as death and completely black. I press a hand to my stomach where I feel more nauseous.

I can't sleep. I can barely sit up. When I stand and begin to walk I'm stumbling from side to side. The few shapes I can make out in the darkness blur and my dizziness distorts them. I don't want to but I have to go to Gale. I vaguely remember the way to my room and push the door open. It creaks loudly but Gale doesn't stir. I can make out his form, half under the blankets his bare top covered in moonlight. His face is hard and he doesn't look relaxed but I can't think of that as I stumble over because I may fall over at any minute. I stop in the middle of the room and sway.

"Gale," I hiss. He moves a little but doesn't wake up. I whisper his name again. This time he wakes up. He blinks blearily then starts when he realizes I'm standing there. Confusion etches his tired face.

"Katniss?"

I'm about to reply, I get the word out "I-" before I feel in serious danger of my knees buckling. Gale seems to notice I'm practically falling over and leaps up to support me. The nausea is worse but I grip his shoulders as he leads me backward to he bed and lays me down. I don't want him to go but I don't have to hold onto him. He is leaning over me and I feel his cool hand on my forehead. I can't help but sigh with relief.

"You've got a fever," he says and I can hear he is fighting to keep his voice steady. He turns around and I grab at the air where he just was, making a feeble noise. His hand closes over mine and pushes it back to my side. "I'm going to get you some medicine. Stay here."

I nod and listen to him leave. It seems like eternity of cold and dizziness before he comes back with a glass of water and a pill. He holds me in a sitting position as I take the pill. I hold the glass to my lips but my hand is shaking and a bit of water sloshes over my bed. He wraps his hand around the glass, and mine and holds it to my lips while I sip. I barely finish the water before I push it away.

Gale rests me back down. I don't want him to go now, though I know he'll get up and be back at the couch. But I can't ask him to stay. He has to rest too or he'll get sick again. I have no doubt I am getting the fever he was ill with but he has to fight the sickness in his cuts. I expect him to leave, wait for the sounds of his feet moving away but I don't hear them and when I open my eyes he is there, running his thumb over my palm. I can't stop a tear from rolling down my cheek. I'm so tired…

He's there when I wake up, his top half on the bed, the other half in a chair. I feel a stab of guilt that he hasn't gotten much sleep. I sit up and ignore the dizziness that follows. When my vision has returned to normal I gently nudge his shoulder until he wakes. When he does he smiles and for the first time in what seems like forever, I smile back.

"Gale, take the bed. I'll go sleep on the couch. You need rest."

The smile vanishes. "Can't you just let me take care of you?" he asks and we both understand this is about more than the sickness.

I want to argue but more than that I want him to forgive me, so I nod and lean back. Gale disappears and I ignore the fear that builds up whenever he's gone. He'll be back. When he is he's carrying bread and more water. I eat some of it, forcing it down my throat where it feels thick. I know I have to say something. Now.

"The kiss," I begin and he closes his eyes as if he can block out what I'm saying. "I, it wasn't fake. At all," I add. I'm not sure where I'm going with this. "I'm sorry I ran awa-"

Gale interrupts. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed Catnip."

Now I'm confused. He didn't push, not completely. I did too. "I just remembered… everything. It happens and I can't block it out."

He nods, understanding. But he doesn't understand. He doesn't know how much I love him and need him. I reach forward and tangle my fingers in his hair. I hesitate for a fraction of a second but he is waiting for me. I lean in but I don't kiss him, remembering I'm sick. Instead we both just stay, close and enjoying the heat. He puts his hands on my neck and waist and we are both trembling with the other's proximity. I feel something rise in my throat and have to breathe deeply, trying to smile for Gale's sake but he notices and pushes me back down in bed.

For the next few days' things are better. We talk together and sometimes he sleeps next to me. I feel better and he lets me apply ointment to his back. Each time we hold our breath, unsure of what my probing hands might lead to but we haven't kissed yet.

He looks after me and we go hunting in a couple of days. While I'm exhausted at the end of it I feel better than I have in a while and we make some good kills. Gale is giving me the bigger portion of our food but I don't let him get off easily and he isn't allowed to sit by my bed while I sleep.

Now I'm better. My fever is gone and I don't feel nauseous at all.

I want to surprise Gale. I want to try again. Without running away. To show him how much he means and how much I want him. He's out getting bread. He doesn't want me out in the cold yet so he runs most of the errands. I can see him through the window though, coming back with the warm loaves under his shirt.

When he opens the door and goes to the kitchen, talking about how he bought a special treat, some cheese tart at the bakery I just wait in the doorway. His cheeks are red from cold, his eyes alive. He is animated as he talks but I just smile and move toward him, charged with a piercing hot emotion. He doesn't notice until I'm inches from him, then he stops talking. I reach up and kiss him. He is startled but doesn't pull back. Instead he matches my eagerness, and then some. I slip my warm hands over his icy cheeks and kiss him harder. He is pulling off his jacket but leaves his shirt on.

I kiss his jaw and down his neck, hoping he enjoys my warmth and by the way he presses his frozen body toward mine, I can tell he does.

We both stumble blindly, kissing each other and grasping each other's clothes. His shirt is off before we know it and mine follows soon after. We somehow make it to my bedroom where we collapse on the bed. He rolls so I am hovering above him. I feel him pause and I sickly remember this is where we stopped last time. But I continue to kiss him and try to use his closeness to make the fear go away. His kisses are filled with equal verve and move down to my collarbone, bruising my pulse point.

Mixed in with the pleasure, the fear surfaces. I gasp and go frigid and Gale immediately stops, first with concern in his eyes, then I see him pulling away.

"No," I gasp. "Give me a second." I'm pleading and I'm not being fair, I know it. We both don't have much self control right now but after a moment he nods and waits, holding me in the spot. He is rocking me as I shiver, whispering in my ear, filling it with his hot breath and the sound of his desire, which only further comforts me.

When I'm convinced he won't leave I kiss him slowly. He kissed back hard but seems to understand I feel fragile, so he slows down, running his hands up and down my back.

When we are back to the heat we felt before I feel his fingers tugging at the fabric that binds my chest. I am blushing but I nod quickly and kiss him to hide my emotions. He slides his fingers under it and pulls it up over my head. I have to fight the urge to cross my hands over my chest. For a moment he just kisses me, keeping his eyes on my face. Then I see his eyes flicker to my chest. To spare me he doesn't say anything, just kisses my collarbone. His lips move lower and lower until they are at my stomach, capturing my belly button in his with his lips. A small groan escapes me and I bite my lips to stop from groaning again. For some reason I don't want him to guess how much of an effect he is having on me.

The sound I make reminds me of where this is headed. Do I want to go there with Gale? The question isn't about Gale; I will always want to share this with Gale, when it happens. But do I want to do this? I love his touches, gentle caresses with rough hands but the further his hands travel, as much as I love the new experiences, I know I'm not ready for this. How do I stop it? Without pushing Gale away again? I feel fear at the thought of him leaving, angry with me or hurt, but I have to say something as he fumbles with the button on my pants.

"Gale," I say and take his hands. I'm still kissing him but they're feather light and I'm only kissing his lips. He is hesitantly kissing back but I can tell he's confused.

"Katniss, are you alright?" He isn't concealing the concern in his voice.

I nod and keep kissing him, letting go of his hands. I don't want to have to say it and I briefly consider just doing it, to make Gale happy. He stops me though, turning his head so a kiss lands on his cheek. We are both breathing heavily but he manages to say "Are you ready for this?"

It's a direct question; I cannot avoid answering because he won't let me kiss him into silence. I bite the inside of my cheek and nod, refusing to meet his eyes.

I can't see his expression as he kisses me again but he pulls back too soon.

"No you're not," he says, and his voice isn't angry. It's… understanding? He's holding my waist, wrapping his arms loosely around it and I notice I'm trembling.

I give my head a little shake and force myself to look up at him. He isn't smiling but he is calm and stroking my hair. "It's not fair to you," I mumble.

He tugs on a strand of my hair and pulls me down so I'm lying on top of him, his arms encasing me and I lean my head on his chest.

"It's fair. You're still here." I know he means here, on his chest, sharing myself with him. I smile a little and nod.

We don't fall asleep but we start to talk in low tones. It's far past dark by the time we get up to eat. I pull my shirt on and cut up the bread, then skin a couple of the squirrels Gale caught the other day. We're each famished, eating this much will be fine.

I stew the squirrels and Gale cuts up half the loaf of bread. We don't eat any greens but we take sips of tea as we eat and by the end of the meal we are satisfyingly full.

We decide to stay up. With both of us being sick we've gone to bed early each night. Finally neither of us is too ill and we can stay up talking.

We talk about hunting, about the games, and about old things. There isn't much new to talk about but we come around to what might be growing in the forest when the weather gets warmer again. There's still a future, even if it's uncertain.

When we do go to sleep it's together. I wear a shirt and only my undergarments beneath. Gale wears a t-shirt and soft light shorts. Unlike previous nights in which we limited our contact to brushing hands, he curls his body around mind and I burrow into him, reveling in his warmth. His arms aren't fully around my waist but his hands on resting on my sides. It feels right and safe. I have forgiven Gale for everything and I hope he's forgotten it too. We have so much to do. In the ruins of Panem food is as hard to come by as it was before. Except for bread, thanks to Peeta. In a way I'm thankful for Peeta. He is a great friend and he will always mean more to me, even though I love Gale. I can't love Gale any more than I do.

The days go by and we have settled into a routine. Gale and I are close, closer than ever. We still hunt but some days we stay in and just talk. As much as I love it though, hunting can't fill the days. I've gone through the apothecary book. We've visited the neighbours and traded. However, without the Capitol hounding us and without starvation in such close quarters, survival doesn't take all our tme and energy. No school, easily accessed food… there isn't much to do.

A year ago this would have suited me. A year ago looking after Prim and mother and hunting with Gale, everyday, would have been fine. Now I find I want more. The Hunger Games, as barbaric and cruel as they were, took me away from that life and now it isn't enough.

Gale is content. He has always been content with the forest, but I've changed. He hasn't recognized it but when he does I'm not sure how he'll react. Will he understand it isn't enough any more to just stay and survive? I need a reason to survive. I hope he doesn't think he isn't a good enough reason.

I decide to broach the subject during dinner. Gale hasn't eaten since breakfast so I figure if we argue there's a chance he won't walk away from the food.

We're having wild dog, the remains of something that began chasing us in the woods. We dip our stale rolls into it and suck them dry. I am eating more slowly than him and he soon notices.

"What's wrong Catnip?" he asks.

I begin to fiddle with my bread and refuse to meet his gaze. "There's no Prim anymore. Mother's gone. Your family is back in District Two. There's no Capitol. What are we going to do?" This is much more than I planned to say but it all came out in a rush. The silence that descends makes me uncomfortable but we have to discuss it.

"We're going to survive," he says and his voice is gentle. "Like we always did, Catnip."

I take a moment before responding, this time looking right in his eyes. "There's so little to do. Now there are only two of us to feed. Everyone is still scattered. We can survive with a third of the time we used to. There isn't anything to do. I'm…" I struggle to find the word and settle for one. "I'm bored, Gale."

His expression is unreadable but he has retreated slightly, to think. When he does speak his voice is cold. I flinch. "Are you bored with me?"

I back peddle quickly, getting into a fight is the last thing I wanted to do. "No, it has nothing to do with you. You've made it easier to live and I want to stay with you. It's just…" I bite my lip. He's waiting for me to continue but nothing is coming out.

Gale picks up his plate and dumps it in the kitchen sink. I stay and stare at the cold food on mine as he goes upstairs. He can have the bed tonight.

I sleep on the couch, after taking a long bath, which did nothing to clear my thoughts. I'm surly the next morning, trudging around and making as much noise as I can to wake Gale. How could he think I'm bored with him? Of course I'm not. He won't face it, still doesn't trust me. Haven't I given him every reason to? Except for Peeta, and my constant running out. My anger dissolves a bit but I refuse to let it go. When I hear Gale moving around I don't want to see him so I grab my jacket and quickly leave, slamming the door shut, making certain he can hear it.

I haven't gone to the bakery in a long time. It feels like ages since I've seen Peeta. When I open the door though he looks the same as ever. Blonde hair just a bit too long, face burnt by the heat of the oven. He smiles as I walk in but it's a tight, controlled smile. I smile back.

"Hi Peeta."

"Hi Katniss, haven't seen you in a while. Hungry?"

I nod and look at the various breads. They are as good as the ones Peeta's father made, before he moved as well, with what seems like the majority of District 12. All the different sizes and shapes… I'm lost. "Any recommendations?" I ask, hoping to sound more casual than confused.

Peeta grins and picks up a steaming loaf that must have come out the oven seconds before I arrived. "It's got a lot of nuts in it," he says and waves it under my nose. The smell is heavenly and I fumble for the money as he wraps it for me.

This is the extent of our conversation now. We exchange bread for money. A part of me misses the way we spoke during the games. When neither of us was being the loving couple for the cameras. The way we spoke when we decided to be just friends.

I give him a sincere smile as I leave. "See you around." It's a lie but it's comforting.

He smiles too, as sadly as I feel. "Yes. Bye Katniss."

I leave the bakery and survey the empty streets. Though the hunger has ended and many people still mine, District 12 is a ghost of what it once was. Everyone has moved closer to the Capitol. To linger with the people they never met from other districts and celebrate the freedom of all in Panem. There may not be forests there and I may not be one for small talk, but the presence of people around must be nice. To not feel so lonely and… isolated. If only Gale and I lived closer. Not in the Capitol, but around there. In District 2. Gale seemed to like it there, would I? Another thought forms. Maybe we could visit. See what it's like.

I feel awful for a second; thinking of leaving District 12, the place that has always been my home, even though I don't have many ecstatic memories about it. But I would be leaving everything behind. The shop, the woods, and Peeta.

Before I know what I'm doing, my feet are taking me back to bakery. Peeta is surprised to see me, which makes sense, having not seen me for weeks then seeing me twice in one day.

I speak before he can open his mouth. "Have you ever though of moving, closer to the Capitol?" The question has him completely by surprise.

"Yes, but I'm not sure what I'd do there. Nobody would want to buy bread from me. Not with the fine Capitol food." I know we both have good memories of the food they fed us and we're grinning at the memory.

"You could sell the really fancy stuff. The cakes and cookies. Or you could actually paint, make art."

The idea sounds preposterous when it comes out my mouth but Peeta looks like he's actually thinking about it.

"Are you thinking of leaving?" He asks.

I think then shrug. It's too soon to tell.

He hands me a small bag. "Let me know," he's grinning. I grin back and look in the package just as I leave. Two cookies. One for me and one for… Gale.

Gale who's trudging through the thin layer of snow toward me right now, anger apparent on his face. Well, I'm not angry with him anymore.

"What are you doing?" he hisses. I'm taken aback. Isn't it obvious?

"I got bread," I answer, hefting the loaf.

He ignores the bread completely. "You just walked out without telling me. And came here. What took so long?"

After the day he disappeared for hours going to "get bread" I feel furious. "I was talking to Peeta. He's a friend Gale, get over it."

Gale does seem to get over it because he takes the bread from me and holds my hand all the way back home. When we arrive and I show him the packet of cookies, forgotten in our argument, he gives me a long look.

"I'm sorry, Catnip. I know you didn't mean that but I don't know what you want."

I nod. I'm relieved he isn't angry but when I tell him about my conversation with Peeta, will he get angry all over again? I sigh and face him.

"Gale, I'm going to tell you something and I want you to hear all of it before you get angry or, or anything." Gale looks surprised and confused but after a moment he concedes.

I tell him about my plan to move to District 2. "…You've been there. I don't know what it's like but there might be more to do there. Something to," I pause. "Live for." _Besides you_, I think, hoping it's obvious.

Gale is silent. When he does speak he is smiling. "I would go to District 2 with you Katniss, if you really wanted." I can't help grinning ear to ear. "We should." He looks at me and I launch myself at him, laughing quietly and holding him closely as I kiss him. He smiles against my lips and I feel him intertwine his fingers with mine.

When we pull apart I go on. "I'm not sure what we can do but I'm sure Haymitch would be able to help us. Peeta could always bake, or paint. He said he's wanted to do that. When he said he'd come with us he-" I stop. I had expected some reaction from Gale when I mentioned Peeta's coming with us, but not this much of one. He drops my hand and stands back forcing me to take a step to catch my balance. His eyes are cold and looking anywhere but at mine.

"What's wrong?" I already knew the answer but I was praying he wouldn't say it.

"You already asked Peeta?" His voice cut through me like ice.

"Yes," I faltered. "He was in the bakery when I thought of it so I asked him…"

Gale's face has darkened to the blackest look I've ever seen him have. "So you don't want me to go? Peeta's already going with you. And he has a job. What would I do? Stand around while everyone fawns over the victors? While they go on about you and your boyfriend?"

His last words hurt. I had thought he was my boyfriend. And he knows it wouldn't be like that. I want him there. It isn't worth going without him. I shook my head. "No, that's not it. He's not, Gale, you know that…" I try to convince him but I felt him move away and when I raise my head I'm standing alone.

I wake up with a pain in my neck and an unusual amount of noise outside the living room window. When I crane to peak through the curtains my line of vision meets with what must be all of District 12 outside. The square of the seam, the former Hob, is being decorated with lanterns and the stalls cleared away. There won't be any trading today. Thank goodness I bought that bread yesterday.

I watch the decorating continue. How could I forget? Now was when the champions of the Hunger Games usually began their victory tour, now was the time people celebrated the end of those barbaric days. Tonight there would be a feast, leaving people scavenging for days after. There would be delicacies and wine and music and dancing. It was still strange for me to see this kind of joy in the Seam but the excited faces of children spared an awful future was a welcome change. For a brief second I imagined Prim's face had this been her future.

Peeta wandered by, carrying a covered tray steaming slightly in the cold morning. I smiled and forced myself off the couch. I threw open the door and jogged lightly after him. When he found me at his elbow he started but I grabbed the tray soon enough to steady it. He grinned. "Morning, Katniss."

"Good morning. What are you bringing to the feast?"

He indicated the tray. "It's a surprise. What are you bringing?"

Honestly, I had nothing to bring. Maybe I'd go hunting soon and bring back a turkey, if I could find one. "It's a surprise." This won a smile. "Are you looking forward to the celebration? This time a few years ago we would have just been thankful we hadn't been tributes."

"Except we were." There isn't any tension in the statement and Peeta just nods. He's seemed to have gotten over it, at least enough.

I shift my gaze forward. I sometimes feel the games happened to another person entirely, or like they're a hazy memory from when I was too young to be fully conscious. Sometimes they hit me with full force and I constantly fear they're right below the surface and they'll emerge when I'm not prepared.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice snaps me back to reality and I face him. "Are you alright?" He's concerned about me.

I smile and nod to reassure him. I didn't notice we've stopped walking. He sets the tray on a table to the side of the square, one of many where families will be bringing the best food they can afford.

"I know how it is Katniss," he says. "I used to remember everything so vividly. It comes and goes now but I have to remind myself sometimes. The important thing is that even when the venom is awful and the visions are so _real_, it ends soon enough and life goes one." He's leaning against the table while I stand uncertainly, his shoulder brushing mine. I want to accept his comfort but I don't, I just lean against the table and sigh.

"You're right. I just want something to do. Some way to get over it."

He nods. "That's why you want to go to District 2? It's a good reason. When are you going?"

I shrug. "Whenever Gale goes. If he wants to go." I guess my face isn't hard to read. When I notice Peeta's look I try to wipe it clean of emotion.

"Gale doesn't want to go?" His voice is purely curious.

"I don't know. He wanted to then…" I decide not to tell Peeta what Gale said. It wasn't fair to Peeta. Instead I changed the subject. "You should open a gallery in District 2. I have no idea what to do, I'm pretty sure hunting isn't much of a job but if you get real brushes and paint you could paint what you frost."

Peeta accepts my change of subject and we start the conversation. He tells me about his drawings, how frequent they've become and what he draws. He's been out to the meadow, drawing flowers. But he likes drawing people more. And sometimes he gets paid for the drawings.

The sun is past its midpoint when I return to the house, my fight with Gale forgotten and my spirits high. I grad my bow from beside the front door and head out to hunt.

It doesn't cross my mind that I haven't seen or heard from Gale all day. I try to remember if he slept in my room all night but I'm not sure. I don't let it bother me.

I don't catch a turkey but I shoot a deer. It's better than I'd hoped for and the pelt is beautiful and silky. When I skin it I can use the pelt, or sell it. The carcass is heavy but I carry it home and begin preparing it for tonight. The sun is beginning to set by the time the meet is cooking and I'm in the bath, scrubbing away layers of dirt and sweat. I emerge and dress in dark pants and a light blue shirt, a thin, soft shirt of my mother's.

Gale still hasn't appeared. As I pull the meat out I feel worried. But perhaps he went to find something for the feast tonight too.

I wait until dark to appear in the hob. With the stalls put away and lanterns projecting warm fire light all over the square, and with the delicious aromas of fine food off to the side, the Seam has been transformed. Crowds are dancing, smiling and laughing to upbeat music. I place the deer on the table and watch the coloured lanterns bobbing up and down in the black night.

A hand on my shoulder makes me jump. I whirl around to see Peeta, looking dashing in black with hair still slightly damp from a bath. He laughs at my reaction. "Jumpy Katniss?"

We talk for a while, and then join the dancers. It's breezy and slightly cool but the heat of so many happy bodies in one place keeps us warm. All the while my eyes scan the crow for Gale. Peeta and I are sitting, gorging ourselves on plates full of rolls and stew and Peeta's cheese and apple tarts when I spot Gale. I nearly bite through the fork I'm eating with.

Gale is dancing, with Madge. But it isn't normal dancing. Gale has his hands on Madge's waist and his face close to hers. He is whispering in her ear and occasionally touching his lips to her neck. The dance is much more intimate than what I was doing with Peeta, and too heated for me to like. Gale turns his head, locking eyes with mine, and he smirks and pulls Madge closer, letting his hands slide to her hips.

My cheeks burn and I hope it will be mistaken for heat from the lanterns and the small fires that have been lit around the square to keep it from getting too cold.

"Katniss?"

I turn back to Peeta. "Sorry, I got distracted." I don't mention Gale and I'm relieved Peeta doesn't ask.

We stay soundless for a while, long enough for me to rage at Gale silently. How dare he dance with Madge like that? I don't blame Madge at all; she is my friend and a friend of Gale's. Could he really do something like this just because he was angry with me? Was he that petty? Or, another, much worse thought struck me. Was he over me? My mind wandered back to his absence all day. He had been with Madge. This made me unbelievably furious. My vision blurred and swirled with the red colours of the fires.

The music changed eventually. It was sweet and melodic but slow and some people began dancing in groups, holding hands in circles, while others swayed together in partners. I resisted the urge to glance over at Gale. I felt guilty suddenly. Peeta had stayed beside me while I silently brooded for who knows how long? I would make it up to him.

"Want to dance?" I blurted suddenly. Peeta raised his eyebrows and his blue eyes widened.

"Sure," he murmured. We held hands and moved to the crowd. Peeta hesitantly places his hands around my middle, interlocking his fingers in the small of my back. I place my hands on his shoulders and when my arms grow tired I let them hang limply around his neck. When they get more tired I let them fall to his chest and I rest my head there, listening to his heartbeat. I didn't notice when he rested his head in my neck but we swayed until the end of the song, enjoying each other's closeness.

The music stopped and I pulled away. Being near him felt right, but if anything else came of it… I remembered Gale. I turned to see Gale watching me, his eyes blazing in the firelight, Madge with her hand on his arm and concern on her face. I stood still and waited for him to look away but he would not so I took Peeta by the hand and led him away. I could tell by his faltering steps he was confused but I turned in the direction of the house and he took up my speed. I let his arm drop and as we walked our fingers brushed.

Peeta walked me home and gave me a brief hug when I opened the door. I smiled and said goodnight, wishing I wasn't so tired. I wanted to stay out and dance but I could see he was weary with me and I felt annoyed with myself too. I kept bringing him close then pushing him away. Would I never make up my mind about the boy with the bread? Still, we were friends, and as I closed the door I felt good about that.

I was glad Gale wasn't home. I made my way to the bedroom and kicked off my shoes, not bothering to change. Maybe since he was with Madge, I could have the bed all to myself again.

Despite my exhaustion my brain won't turn off. My mind wanders to Peeta and I wondered if he was still in the square. My stomach growls and I realize I hadn't eaten as much of the rich food I had seen there as I could have. And I probably wouldn't get another chance like this for a while. I wonder if I can sneak some of it home, save it for tomorrow.

This new idea spurs me out of bed. I pull on my boots and search for my jacket, slipping it over my arms. I smooth my hair down and go to the door. There's a noise just outside of it. I wonder if Peeta's still there…

I don't open the door to Peeta. I open the door to Gale. With her arms around his neck and her lips on his is Madge. In the dim light I can see her cheeks are red, she's had too much to drink, but Gale is holding her and kissing her back. They break apart and Gale turns to me. He looks surprised and frantic while Madge is smiling and swaying slightly.

My first thought is _I must not cry_. If Gale sees me cry now I'm not sure I'll ever be able to face him. On the other hand I don't want to get angry, I don't want him to see how upset he can make me. And I don't feel anger, just a piercing numbness in my stomach, spreading through my body.

I struggle to keep my face neutral, hoping it hasn't become void of colour. I force a smile onto it, though the gesture feels tight and alien.

"Sorry," I say, my voice sounds strange to me. "I didn't know you were out here."

Madge is grinning from ear to ear and while a part of me wants to slap her, another part recognizes that tomorrow, when she's sobered, she'll probably feel awful about this. I can't hate her for that.

I start to back up, getting ready to close the door. Gale makes a move. "Katniss…" he begins but I'll never know what he was going to say because I close the door. I don't slam it, just place my palms against the wood and shut it. Before I know what I'm doing I've turned the lock and I'm walking away, as quickly as I can before the tears come streaming out.

Gale's muffled shouts are echoing through the living room. I clap my hands over my ears and dive into bed, praying he'll leave soon. Praying Gale will stay far away from me for a long time.

I wake up to bright light streaming in the windows. Too bright. I shut my eyes but the light seeps through my lids making them red. Memories of Gale and Madge's kiss filter into my mind from last night. I try to shut them out, yelling at myself into my pillow. I yell my throat raw and roll over, again and again, trying to get comfortable and fall back to sleep. When it becomes obvious this won't happen I force myself out of bed.

I change into pants and a plain shirt then braid my hair messily down my back. Today would be a good day for hunting. With all the sun. Besides, with the feast yesterday everyone will be short on food and, for a while, it will cost more. I grab my bow and my game bag and make for the door. I don't even notice Gale is on the other side of it until I push it open and hit him in the back. He gets startled awake and rubs his back as I open the door, peering around it to see what's in the way. I can't help but stare in surprise. Did he sleep out here all night? Where's Madge? I glance up, half expecting to see her there too, but Gale probably walked her home. Then why did he come back here?

"Catnip," Gale says when he realizes it's me, and he scrambles to his feet. I want to ignore him and walk away, to glare at him or push him but I control those urges, not wanting him to know how angry I am. Or how hurt.

"Morning," I say and nod. "You should get some sleep." I turn and walk toward the woods but Gale catches up with me and has to jog slightly because I'm trying to walk as quickly as I can.

"Katniss, that kiss meant nothing."

I don't want to hear it. I keep walking, turning to the right abruptly and knock him off balance. He stumbles but races to catch up with me again.

"Madge was drunk. I came to find you but I had to take her with me."

"Why did you have to find me?" I ask, keeping my face and my voice as neutral as possible.

"I wanted to apologize. For-" he shakes his head. "For dancing with Madge, and acting like that. I was going to earlier but you were dancing with Peeta." Now there's a hint of anger in his voice.

My jaw almost drops and I feel a bitter laugh rising in me. "I have a right to dance with Peeta. It isn't your business, just like it isn't mine what you do with Madge."

We're well beyond the fence now, entering the forest. I wish Gale would turn around and leave me in peace, that way I might catch some actual game, but he stays and argues.

"I wasn't doing anything with her, she kissed me! And you were getting cozy with Peeta anyway, so what do you care?"

He's challenging me now; I know it. I turn and face him, smiling as politely as I can. "I don't, Gale. I really don't. What you do with Madge is your business. Like I said. I'm trying to hunt, please leave me alone." I fight to keep my voice steady and look at his eyes but I somehow manage.

Gale opens his mouth but not a sound comes out. Instead he grabs me by the arms and holds me in one spot. I don't protest but I refuse to blush as he leans closer.

"Katniss, I'm sorry. I was going to tell you. Nothing happened between me and Madge." His lips get closer as he speaks until they're crashing into mine. The effect is surreal and strong, he lights fires in me and brings out a force I didn't know I had. But in a split second I remember his kiss with Madge, that she touched his lips like this only last night and I pull away. I stare at his feet in front of me, unable to lift my head or look at him.

"I need to hunt Gale. Go away."

Gale is breathing heavily, I can hear him. I can also imagine the shocked look on his face but I push past him and walk. I don't hear him walking away but I don't hear him following and eventually I rest against a tree and catch my breath, waiting for the forest to quiet again and the hunt to begin.

I wait until sunset to return. I've put it off as long as possible, killing so many squirrels and rabbits, and even a wild dog that they won't fit in my game bag. I wanted to go home earlier but I didn't want to run into Gale. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Just thinking of that kiss sends blood rushing to my cheeks.

Thankfully Gale isn't anywhere to be seen as I walk back to the house, struggling not to drop any of the game I've shot. I'm also vaguely annoyed, having lost a few arrows today.

When I come in I drop the game in the kitchen and briefly consider skinning it there and then but I am soaked with sweat and under a thin layer of dirt and animal blood. It takes a few buckets to fill the tub, then when I get in and let the dirt and blood mingle in the water I have to add another couple of buckets to scrub myself with. Eventually I'm clean and I run my fingers through my hair before braiding it and changing, letting my wet hair leave a wet patch on my back.

I go back to the kitchen and skin the animals. My fingers move numbly and now, out of the sunshine and in the kitchen with a cold draft blowing through my wet hair, I'm cold. The house is empty and I wonder if this is because of Gale's absence. I've gotten so used to him being around. If I had other friends… but I've never had many friends. I never spoke to anyone much before the games and in the arena was hardly a place for friendship. Except with Peeta. But Peeta and I… I had to keep a distance from him. I love Peeta. I always will. But I can't let it go any farther than friendship. I love Gale more, even though the thought of him around makes me feel sick.

It's pitch black outside when I finish the skinning and I'm wrapping up the animals. The wild dog has a decent pelt; I might be able to trade it tomorrow.

I don't bother eating; my throat feels like I'm swallowing glue. Instead I lie in bed and wait for morning, wearing my shirt and pants and only bothering to take off my socks and take out my braid. I want to forgive Gale but I've pushed him away again. For good reason. Now that I think about it, Madge is a far better match for him than I am…

I wake up to rain. I should have known the good weather wouldn't last long. I brighten up when I remember the food I collected yesterday but it still takes a while to get out of bed. Today isn't the day for trading but I decide to offer the dog pelt around, out of sheer boredom. I wrap myself in my jacket and head out.

The rain is light but as if one queue, when I'm halfway through the square it begins bucketing. Running for cover I duck into the bakery where Peeta is selling a loaf to a young customer, someone I recognize from the lower levels of school. She smiles at me as she leaves and I smile back, and then turn my smile to Peeta.

Peeta looks glad to see me and we begin talking. He returned to the dance after I left but everyone was calming down. He helped clean up and opened the shop late yesterday, not that it made much of a difference; hardly anyone was looking to buy. I mention the animals I hunted and how many I caught. Peeta asks to buy one.

"I can't hunt like you and I would like some meat once in a while. Do you have any on you?"

I shake my head. "If you come tonight I'll have them. I've already skinned them."

Peeta smiles. "Great. I'll take two Katniss."

Being here, in the warmth, with Peeta makes me feel better and I almost forget Gale. I stay long after the rain has let up and around lunchtime, when my stomach growls, Peeta offers me food.

"No, I can't take anything for free," I decline.

"The way you're giving me a rabbit?" He has a point. I munch on a roll and sit behind the counter, watching as he makes deals with customers. Peeta really would do well in District 2. He's good with people and with pastries.

Gale comes in. _Of course,_ I think. When are the odds ever in my favour?

He doesn't notice me at first, he's busy picking a loaf, but when he glances up with money in his outstretched palm he notices me chewing silently next to Peeta. His expression is difficult to read but there's obvious anger, hurt and confusion. I stare blankly back at him. I'm not his. I never was.

He hands Peeta the money. Peeta can sense the tension between us, I can tell by the way he glances back and forth, but he smiles and thanks Gale.

"Thanks," Gale says sulkily and stands a little taller. He exits the bakery and I can't make out through the foggy windows which way he goes.

"Katniss, are you alright?"

I've stopped eating but I quickly start again. "I'm fine. Gale and I just had a fight." It's easier to say it than I thought and it feels good to get it out in the open.

"Oh." I can't tell what that means from Peeta but I decide to focus on my roll. When I finish it Peeta and I talk even longer. He is being more open, friendlier, laughing more often and smiling more widely. I know why, but for now I pretend I don't notice.

Eventually I leave, thanking him for the roll and reminding him I'll be home tonight with the rabbit.

I return home, no Gale in sight and get to work on the rabbit. When it's done cooking I lie on the couch and wait for Peeta, hoping he'll bring another roll along tonight…

I wake up to knocking on the door. I bounce up and smooth down my hair, hoping I don't look like a complete mess, and open the door.

"Peeta-"I begin and stop.

Gale glances up at me through his damp bangs. "Sorry, just me," I can hear the bitterness in his tone and it grates on my nerves.

I sigh and lean against the door frame, not inviting him in. "What is it Gale?" I let the weariness and anger in my voice match what I'm feeling.

"Can I come in?"

I hesitate then nod. Gale in the house. I can handle that.

"I'm sorry Katniss," he says once he's inside.

Oh no, I can't handle that. "For what?" I want to hear him say it. Own up to his own feelings for once instead of making me own up to mine, since every time I do he gets angry.

He looks like a whipped puppy as he hangs his head and answers "I'm sorry for accusing you about Peeta. I know it isn't my business and after how I acted with Madge it was completely fair-"

"Yeah, it was." I cut him off. "It wasn't for you to know about and I don't care what you were doing with Madge or what you thought it would accomplish but I don't know why you cared about me and Peeta." I didn't mean to say so much but once I started it kept coming out.

Gale looks at me like I'm crazy. "Of course I care. We kiss and a couple days later you're dancing with Peeta."

"It's no worse than you dancing with Madge!"

"So you were jealous?" He smirks. I want to smack that smirk off his face.

"Don't you dare, Gale. You won't tell me a single thing about how you feel but you want details about me. I'm off limits, get it?" The words sound harsh but they're what Gale needs to hear. In a strange way I enjoy the shocked look on his face.

"You know how I feel," he falters.

I shake my head and cross my arms. "No, I don't." If that isn't clear enough Gale is a bigger idiot than I ever thought.

He looks down and I think he won't speak. I'm about to offer him the door when he forces some words out. "I was jealous. Of you and Peeta. When you mentioned him coming to District 2. Then I danced with Madge to make you jealous but you danced with Peeta. I was going to come find you after but Madge came along and kissed me. I didn't kiss her, I didn't want to." His next words are so quiet I barely catch them. "She wasn't you."

I'm having a hard time keeping my face neutral; so many emotions are boiling inside of me. The ones I hate are the ones of love and hope for Gale; the others are feelings of betrayal and fear.

"Well, now that you've said that, anything else?" I don't want to end it this way but I don't know what else to say.

Gale looks up, stunned and sad. He shakes his head and stands to his full height. "I guess that's it."

I'm sad too; the fears I feel are weighing down on my chest. Gale doesn't love me; he won't even fight for me. I go to the door and put my hand on the knob, waiting for him to leave. He comes closer but as I'm about to the turn the handle he places his hands on my shoulders and pulls me into the deepest kiss we've ever shared. In it I feel his regret, his impatience and his greed. I feel his apology and taste something salty. It's his tears. As he's kissing me, he's crying. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him closer, running my hands over his cheeks, down his neck and over his shoulders. I'm comforting him for once, and he's letting me. He's letting me be the strong one.

Gale breaks away for a second and I want to kiss him again, I can taste his breathe, but he says quickly "I'm so sorry Catnip. I love you. I'm sorry." I don't even answer him; just kiss him again and again, trying to reassure him. My back is against the door, my fingernails digging into his t-shirt over his shoulder blades. One of his hands is in my hair and on my neck, tilting my head at different angles to kiss me deeper; the other is on my hip, pushing it against the wood of the doorframe. As we move I hit the handle and let out a tiny sound. I try to ignore it but Gale notices and moves me away from it, then pulls me off the door. I feel too open, with nothing behind me pushing me to Gale but he reaches down with his hands and grabs my legs, lifting me, and I wrap my legs around him. We make our way to the bedroom; he is running his hands over my back and stomach, sending huge shivers all over my body. I am frantically pulling at his shirt, forcing it over his head and letting it fall on the floor, tracing my fingers over his chest and stomach, enjoying his breath hitching in his throat.

He slowly peels off my shirt and holds me as close as he dares without hurting me. We roll on the bed, ignoring the sheets, only caring about our skin-to-skin contact. Soon I'm completely topless and wrestling with the buttons on Gale's pants. We've never gone this far and Gale is kissing down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, to my stomach and teasing off my pants. He's tracing adorations over my skin with his kisses but he finds other ways to make me gasp. I don't stop him as he gently caresses my legs.

From there we only feel warmer, like our skin is on fire. It takes no time to remove both our undergarments and when he pauses to ask if I'm ready I just push him back to the pillows and kiss him.

It hurts at first. Gale warns me but I'm not prepared. He intertwines his fingers in mine and offers to stop if I want but I grit my teeth and shut my eyes against the tears and shake my head, urging him on. He whispers soothingly, though his breath is getting more uneven, and pets my hair until the worst of the pain is over. Then, when he's sure I'm ready, he begins. The pain is still there but faded to a dull ache and soon I'm just as enthusiastic as he is. The moment when we're one is beautiful and we finish gasping, with red cheeks and wild hair, lightly kissing one another.

Gale's tears are gone and I'm still feeling pain but Gale is rocking me in his arms under the sheets. I smile slightly and watch him watching me. He looks as though he'd be content to lie there looking at me forever and I would love to do the same.

"Are you okay?" I know he's referring to the ache in my hips but I brush it off.

"I'm fine. How are you?" I know he's been waiting for this for a while and it finally happened. I suppose if I'd been waiting for it that long I'd be happy.

He kisses me and laughs when I press more firmly into it. "Good. Amazing. I love you Katniss."

"I-I love you." The words sound small to me and I hope he doesn't think they're false but he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on mine.

"I'll go anywhere with you," he says. He opens his eyes and I feel his eyelashes fluttering on my cheeks.

"Even if Peeta comes?" The words are out before I can stop them and I'm suddenly scared I've ruined our perfect moment but Gale looks serious as he replies.

"Yes. Yes, Catnip."

I smile but something seems off, something I'm forgetting… I jump out of bed, my eyes wild. "Peeta! He's coming here to pick up a rabbit."

Gale is smiling and at first I can't figure out why until I realize I have no clothes on. I blush and grab the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around myself as I search for some clothes.

Gale gets up and wraps him arms around me as I pull on pants. "I kind of want Peeta to see you like this. You're hair is…" He trails away and I furiously pat down the wisps of hair flying about in frizzy waves.

"Well, I don't. I don't want to hurt him. Come one, get dressed and come downstairs, he'll be here soon."

Gale grudgingly puts on some clothes but refuses to come downstairs without holding my hand. I try to pat down his hair but he moves away whenever I try.

"Gale, I don't want Peeta to see-"

"See what?" Gale is smiling. He's clearly determined to make Peeta notice what just went on. I blush furiously. Suddenly though, I am struck with realization.

I just lost it. To Gale. It wasn't planned and I hadn't thought about it at all. Now I wonder how I should feel. I don't feel guilty but I don't feel anything else. Just happy that I shared it with Gale. Still, I feel in shock. It's odd to suddenly not have something you never paid attention to having. Not having feels as insubstantial as having it.

Gale notices my silence and puts his hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong?"

I stare back at him. "I'm not a…" I don't want to say the word. I feel stupid for a moment since Gale doesn't seem to be struggling with this.

He looks confused for a moment and then raises his eyebrows. He understands. He holds me to him. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I should have stopped."

I push him away. "No, it was just as much me as it was you. And I don't regret it," the words tumble out before I can stop them. "I just didn't think about it. It doesn't matter."

Gale keeps his arms wrapped around me a little longer though. A knock interrupts us and I silently despair at Gale's appearance before opening the door.

Peeta is smiling and carrying a bag, which holds, judging by the smell of it, cheese buns.

I smile back and let him in. Gale smiles at Peeta, what seems to me like a friendly smile but Peeta falters.

"I've got your rabbit. You can take a second one if you want," I'm eyeing those buns now and he hands them over.

"That's alright. It's yours. I thought you'd enjoy these." I go into the kitchen to get the rabbit and come back out to see Gale running a hand through his already messy hair. I turn red and thrust the rabbit toward Peeta, ignoring Gale as much as possible.

Peeta takes the rabbit but let's his arm fall. He stares at me, and his expression turns to one of concern. "Are you ok? You look kind of flushed."

This makes me blush even more. "I'm fine," I mutter and force myself not to glance at Gale who is probably silently laughing at my expense. I take a deep breath and smile at Peeta. "Thank you for bringing those buns by. Enjoy the rabbit. I hope you know how to cook it." I kiss his cheek.

Peeta looks surprised but quickly recovers. "If I don't I'll just call you over."

I nod. What Peeta says next surprises me. "Keep me posted on our trip to District 2."

I nod again and follow him to the door. As soon as Peeta's gone I turn on Gale who's cat-like grin only makes me madder but as I get ready to rage I can see he's getting ready to kiss me. I dodge the kiss, moving across the room.

"Don't Gale. I don't want to hurt Peeta."

Gale looks annoyed and I know he's been trying to ignore the kiss on Peeta's cheek but I speak before he can. "Peeta's my friend and I care about him. He saved my life. I owe him and even if I didn't, I don't want to hurt him."

Gale is quiet but nods his understanding. He comes over to me and places his hands on my arms, rubbing them as he kisses my temple. "Do you want to go to District 2?"

I sit down and he follows me. "If you come, yes."

Gale pulls me onto his lap and I lean my head on the arm of the couch. "Of course I'll come. I like District 2 and at least Peeta can bake me something sweet."

I turn my face away. I would like if Gale were going at least partly to be with me. My cheeks feel hot and my throat feels full of glue.

Gale brushes back some hair on my face and I can hear him smile when he says "And I love you, Catnip."

I sit up quickly, as though I've been electrocuted. I remember the response I'd once given him when he told me he loved me. I put my hands on his shoulders and sit with my face as close to his as I can without kissing him. His eyes widen but I tangle my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck so he can't pull away, not that he tries.

"I love you too Gale." The words feel right and perfect, not forced. I say them softly and for a moment I'm not sure he's heard me but he pulls me into a lingering kiss. When we break away I rest my head on his chest. His heart is pounding as quickly as mine and soon lulls me into a light doze.

Gale is running his hands through my hair but eventually he picks me up. I struggle into semi consciousness and when we get to the bedroom I let him pull my pants off then watch as he takes off his and his shirt and, in his boxers, lies next to me. My breathing is getting deeper, the room is getting darker and I can feel myself slip away. Not before Gale murmurs "Sweet dreams Catnip, I'll be…" But I don't hear the rest because I'm already gone.

I have the first nightmare I've had in a while that night. Prim is standing, a few feet away from me, trapped on the other side of a piece of glass. All around us the world is empty and Prim seems smaller than I remember. There is something else there, on the other side of the glass. A creature that takes me a moment to recognize. Rue's muttation, from the first Hunger Games. It is stalking Prim who is smiling at me and waving, not noticing the danger behind her. I start screaming, frantically, pointing at Rue. Tears run down my face, for both Prim and Rue but Prim just looks confused. The danger doesn't dawn on her until the muttation's teeth have sunken into her neck.

I wake up in a sweat, screaming my throat raw, tears soaking my shirt and staining my cheeks. It's the dark of night but I don't register anything other than the panic in me. I thrash, still seeing Rue and Prim in the darkness behind my eyelids. It takes several minutes to realize someone is holding me, whispering and caressing my hair and neck.

By the time I realize I'm with Gale my breathing had slowed but my heart still pounds. I'm sure I look terrified and I can't stop sobbing and hiccupping. Gale looks pained, as though my tears are hurting him, but he rocks me against his chest, his face buried in my hair and whispers words I don't catch but soothe me anyway with his gentle voice. It's another long time before the tears subside and I can look up at him.

He doesn't question, doesn't ask anything but "Are you alright?"

I nod feebly. I wish I hadn't woken him. I wish my nightmares were silent, I feel guilty that Gale didn't sleep well just because of me. I try to pull away and roll onto my side. "I'm fine, go back to sleep," I say, trying to make my voice sound casual and loving but Gale pulls me to him and kisses my neck, sending a flare of heat through my vein.

"Katniss, you can't fool me. For one, you're a terrible liar. Just don't try."

I want Gale to comfort me but I don't know where to start. He's been hurt, as much as me. As much as anyone. He's seen his family in danger, he's seen me in danger and he's been tortured. Still, he hasn't seen Rue and I don't want to remind him of Prim. I turn over and kiss him, putting my pain into it and being given a gentle kiss back that stirs my stomach.

"I love you Gale."

He looks surprised but he doesn't press my subject change, just goes along with it.

"I love you too. You can tell me anything."

I shake my head, not because it isn't true, I know I can tell Gale anything. I always have been, since he was and is my best friend. I shake my head because I'd just rather not. But I can't go back to sleep, not just yet. The possibility of having another nightmare makes me tremble. "Just stay here, until I fall asleep." It's an absurd request and I know his answer before he says it.

"I'll be here while you sleep and when you wake up."

I let his heartbeat lull me again like it did this evening. When I sleep for a second time I don't dream of the horror that still plagues me.

When I wake up Gale is beside me, still asleep. I can't blame him, I don't know how long it took him to fall back to sleep after I woke him. I wait for him to wake up, watching the light and the way it dances on his eyelids and eyelashes. I memorize every line of his face and the way his dark hair falls across his face. I brush it back lightly, not wanting to wake him. Everything about him is warm and familiar to me now, from his restless bangs to his torso, which is exposed due to the sheets being pulled down.

I don't realize how close to his face I've gotten until he wakes up. When he does he looks confused for a second then grins. I smile back and accept his kiss.

We don't get up. We realize we don't have a reason to. There's just us, lying in the bed, occasionally talking, sometimes being completely silent, just stroking each other's hair or shoulders.

"Maybe we should get out of bed," I say in one of the lulls in our conversation.

Gale sighs hot against my neck and rolls me onto his chest, inching his hand up my shirt.

"Not yet," he half growls.

We stay in bed another hour then decide to get up. By the time we've had our breakfast of cheese buns it's begun to rain. If it was just drizzling I would be ready to hunt but it begins to pound, turning the landscape into grey mist and sheets of raindrops.

I suggest we plan our trip to District 2 and Gale begins searching through an old notebook for his contacts in District 2. He has no idea who's still there but he can call anyone, everyone. I watch, feeling useless. I resign myself to watching Gale and the way he fidgets when he's concentrating, flicking his hair off his forehead then brushing it back. I remember the feel of his hair, soft and sleek, under my fingers, and blush.

Eventually Gale has a list of people to call. We make another list, of things to pack. There isn't much, we realize. Just the clothes and the books and my hunting gear. We live too simply to carry heavy baggage. Now all that's left to do is make some calls and choose a time to leave. Which is partly up to Peeta. I suggest we leave as soon as the rain lets up but it doesn't look like that will be anytime soon. Instead we sit and talk and plan dinner. As we do Gale moves around as casually as always but touching me more, showing little signs of affection. I wonder, exactly what does this mean to him? I don't want to ask it but now, with the rain, it's the perfect time.

"So, what does this mean?" I ask it while I'm folding the clothes we threw off last night. Gale looks up from the list he's making of clothes to pack, puzzled.

"About what?"

I look away as I say it, hoping my voice sounds normal when it comes out. "About us. What are we…" I trail off, not sure what I'm asking. Am I asking for a label? To make it official?

Gale is silent but he does not stop writing. His free hand he places on mine and looks up while one hand scribbles. "You're my girlfriend."

I don't know what I expected to feel but it isn't joy. It's a sense of finality, in a good way. Like having so many questions answered with one word. I feel a smile twitching at the corners of my mouth. Gale is smiling too but he looks hazy and tired so I don't speak for a while, thinking of how this came to be. Gale and I had been friends since I was fourteen. Now, years later, he was my boyfriend. Somewhere between our days of hunting and the rebellion something had changed. But what? When had Gale first acted that way toward me? He had first kissed me after the games, when I returned with Peeta. My stomach lurches. Had it been Peeta, was that what changed? Did Gale only begin feeling that way because Peeta liked me, because he believed Peeta and I were possibly in love? A cold voice in my head reminds me of how jealous Gale had been, how jealous Gale still might be and how that might be all that is keeping him here with me.

Without meaning to I've stopped folding clothes, my hands are tightly gripping the fabric of one of my old shirts so tightly my knuckles are white. I'm sure my expression must have changed too; I can feel my jaw is clenched. Gale has looked up from the list, noticing my silence and lack of comments on what he thinks are necessary and unnecessary to pack. "Catnip, you alright?"

I hold my breath, consider telling him, but most of me is feeling foolish. He just told me I'm his girlfriend and already I'm doubting him. It is this part of me that stops me from telling him the truth, it is the cold in my stomach that makes me nod stiffly and stand and wander to the dining room table. Gale follows closely; resting his hands on my hips and asks again "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, unable to turn to him, my face red and my hands curled on the tables edge, shaking slightly. "It's nothing important."

Gale doesn't push but he does move my hair out of the way and kisses the back of my neck. He doesn't say anything and neither do I but as he strokes my hair I feel even guiltier for keeping this from him. After all he said to me yesterday.

"Gale?"

"Mm." His face in buried in the crook of my neck.

"When did you start to feel this way?" I force the words out of my mouth, they sound foreign coming out with my voice.

Gale is silent, breathing on my collarbone, causing me to shiver despite being warm. "I don't know. I know I wanted you when I asked you to run away with me. Before the games." He is silent as I consider his words. "Why?"

I don't know how to answer. I don't want to insult him but I know he'll ask again. "Because you didn't say anything until after the games, until after Peeta and I kissed," I blush at that thought. It seems odd to think of kissing Peeta because I wouldn't know what it meant to me, but not right, not anymore.

Gale has stiffened; when he speaks again his voice is strained. "I love you. It has nothing to do with Peeta. I was so jealous when I saw you and him together-"

My throat burns and I want to weep.

"-but that's because I loved you before you and him were," he swallows audibly. "a couple."

I duck my head. Peeta and I weren't a real couple and now I feel worse, for questioning Gale and because deep down one small speck in me is still questioning him. I let Gale turn me around and relax as he tilts my chin up and leans me against his chest.

"You alright Catnip?"

I nod and smile and am rewarded with a kiss. It is sweet and hesitant but picks up speed, much like the rain outside. I can hardly control where my hands go but they're on his abdomen, tracing circles on his stomach and chest. Gale is pushing me against the table, lifting me to sit on it and positioning my knees on either side of his ribs. I remember the first time, when I let him guide everything. Now I take control and tangle my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him to me and refusing to let go of his lips, even though he is gasping for air when we break away.

"Katniss," he says in a low husky voice. "You are really overestimating my self control."

I'm overestimating my own but I don't say it. I want to hear that Gale wants this, that the other night wasn't a fluke. "What do you want?" I ask and hear my voice coming out in a breathy tone.

"You," he answers immediately. "I want you." He kisses my neck but draws away, breathing heavily.

The next words out of my mouth are perhaps the most perfect words I've ever uttered. "Then have me."

The effect is instantaneous. Gale is suddenly everywhere. At my lips, my hair, my back and arms and dragging his fingers over my taut stomach, causing the skin to tingle.

I can feel warmth building in me like an ember. Like a match has been struck and held up inside me to burn, blazing under my flesh and spreading from my chest outward, to the tips of my fingers.

The knock on the door is the most ill-timed and unexpected thing ever. I don't want to pull away from Gale and for a few moments I don't, I consider ignoring whoever's outside. But it must be urgent; nobody would trudge through the rain to our dilapidated house for no reason. Stifling a whimper I pull away from Gale and compulsively smooth down his hair and mine, then I tug down my shirt and make for the door, giving Gale a second to catch his breath.

The figure outside is the last person I'd expect to see. Without thinking I move aside to let Madge into the house. She pauses but steps inside, shivering in her damp coat.

Madge goes rigid when she sees Gale and he looks uncomfortable about it too.

"Gale, can you make some tea, please?" He nods and I can feel both of them relax. The tension between them is enough to make my stomach jump and I angrily feel my tender lips from what Gale and I did a moment ago. I don't feel specific anger at either of them but I become unusually defensive around Madge.

"Sit down."

She does, removing her coat and I notice how pretty she looks, her hair tied up in a ribbon and wearing a dress that is only damp at the bottom. "Hi Katniss," her voice is quiet and nervous, unlike herself.

I only nod and sit opposite her, glad Gale is taking his time with the tea.

Madge picks at her skirt before she begins. "So, I suppose Gale is your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

Madge looks down and goes pink. "I understand." I feel bad for her for a second; she truly does like Gale. But the feeling is gone as quickly as it had come. "I'm sorry then, about the other night."

What I don't like is the feeling of my throat being full of something thick and suffocating. But that is how I feel as Madge apologizes because if Gale loved her instead of me, if he chose her now, a simple moment could change everything. I don't want Gale to come back and look at her embarrassed, or worse, guilty.

Gale does come back, but he sits next to me and traces circles on my hand with his finger and I appreciate the slight physical connection. I relax slightly but keep my eyes on Madge as she silently sips her tea.

"Madge, I'm not angry. I don't blame you for anything." It isn't all I want to say but as I watch her face become a mixture of red and white I know it's the best I can do for now.

Madge nods. "Thank you." She looks up, directly at Gale, and I try not to glare or instinctively move away. I refuse to look at Gale's expression though, in case it is something I can't bear.

There is a silence before Madge rises and picks up her coat, her tea only half-drunk.

I follow her to the door and open it to the rain, feeling a stab of guilt. "Bye Madge."

Madge opens her mouth, clearly unsure of whether or not to say what's on her mind. "Can I talk to Gale? To apologize?"

I say nothing. There isn't anything to say. That's up to Gale and I grudgingly move aside and motion to Gale that she wants to speak to him.

He raises his eyebrows but his expression is neutral as he walks to the door and leans in the doorway. I am aware of how unnatural his stance is and to busy myself while they talk I clean up the tea mugs and put them in the sink.

When the door closes I know Gale and Madge have finished talking. Still the knot in my stomach loosens when Gale comes and leans on the counter next to me while I wash, when he is with me and not her.

"Hey Catnip."

I nod.

"Where were we?" He slips a hand around my waist. I move out of his grasp to reach for the towel and begin drying the mugs.

Gale sighs. "Nothing happened Catnip. Madge apologized."

"She likes you, you know."

Gale stands near me and brushes his fingers along my arm. "But I like you. I told her so."

I don't move away but I pull my arms from him. "She didn't interrupt anything."

I move to the cabinet and stretch up to put the mugs back, balancing on my toes.

"Let me help," Gale uses the excuse to put his hands on my waist.

I let my arm drop and spin around to face him. Gale is leaning against me; backing me against the counter so my hands are against his chest, my fingers curled and the nails scratching his skin. I can't deny the way my body responds to him. I slide my hand from his shirt to his bare stomach and feel his muscles tense under the skin there.

"I trust you," I say in a voice too breathy for my current comfort. Gale wraps his arms around me and pulls my hips to his. I make a weak attempt to move out of his grasp but give up quickly. Too quickly. Gale takes advantage and nips my bottom lip, then pulls away. Something is pulsing in my stomach and sending flares of heat as intense as sunlight to the end of my fingers. To control my breathing I turn my face away but Gale just kisses my neck.

"Do you remember when I told you I wanted to try kissing you just once?" he asks.

I nod. "I forgot how much I needed you."

"I want to kiss you every moment. I'm going to spend the rest of my life loving you."

I want to beg him to. I want him to say it again. Instead I ask him to say something else. "Tell me I'm the only one." Gale is silent but I look up, unable to keep the pleading and desperation out of my voice. "If I am, tell me."

When Gale speaks his voice wavers. "I want to but whenever I think of you being all mine I just want to kiss you."

I pull him into a long kiss and even as he leans into it I pull back. "Say it."

Gale laughs a little. "I love you Catnip. Only you, forever. You're the only one I could ever want."

"You'll always have me," is my response and we pick up exactly where we left off before Madge interrupted us.

When I wake up I sigh happily. We barely made it to the bedroom but here we are with the sheets tangled around our legs. My bottom half is bare but I am wearing the shirt Gale wore yesterday. Now I prop myself up on one arm and run my fingers through his hair, then trace his neck and let my fingers run over his bare shoulder.

"If I pretend to be asleep will you keep touching me?" He keeps his eyes closed as he speaks but I still have to stop the instinct to jerk my hand back. Instead I let it linger on his cheek.

When I don't respond he opens his eyes. "Catnip?"

I lean close to him. "What am I?"

He chuckles. "The only one I could ever want," he answers and rolls so he hovers just above me, his face close enough to mine that his bangs brush my forehead. "I will love you every moment for the rest of my life."

I know what to say next but it still takes effort to force them out with his eyes on mine. I know I'm turning red. "Every night."

"Every morning?"

I blush even brighter but I pull him into his arms and forget every worry at his touch.

The morning goes by quickly. We finish packing then I skin the rest of the game while Gale waits patiently to go hunting.

"We have to tell Peeta when we're going," I remind Gale. "We can do it on the way to the parliament building, you still need to call and arrange for a place to stay."

Gale grunts agreement and places his arm possessively around my shoulders on the way to the bakery.

When we enter I smile at Peeta and move just beyond Gale's grasp but he traces circles on the back of my hand and keeps a hand touching my waist or hip as he moves around the bakery. Peeta isn't unaware of Gale's physical connection to me and the pain is obvious on his face but I try to brighten my voice as I tell him of our plans.

"We've begun packing. I'm not sure when we're leaving. When do you think you can be packed? As soon as we know we'll go buy the train tickets."

Peeta is still staring at Gale's hand on my waist but he meets my eyes and answers "I can be packed in a couple days if you help. I can pay you for me ticket tomorrow. How are you buying yours?"

"We'll just trade some game for it." I move aside as a customer enters and browses the loaves. While Peeta deals with her Gale leans in and sighs against my neck, tickling me with his hot breath.

"I can help him pack up the bakery. You can go get the tickets. I'd probably get it done faster."

I give a small jerk of my head and crane my neck away. "I think I can handle packing up the bakery."


	2. Chapter 2

Gale scowls but doesn't press it. When I turn back to Peeta I can't think of anything else to say. He was watching Gale whisper against my neck and his expression is unbearably sad. I feel guilty and lower my eyes. I still can't meet his eyes when I murmur goodbye and as we exit the bakery I try to figure out how to make things right with Peeta. If I was still the girl I'd been before the games I would be fatalistic, accept that Peeta and I can never have real friendship but now I'm determined to be able to talk to him without either of us ever holding things back. He's only doing it now out of… what? I try to reason it but I can't tell if he's being silent about Gale and I for my benefit, Gale's or his.

We stop by the station, which is still not well kept, but recognizable enough for trains to occasionally stop here. It is empty today, most of those who moved back to District 12 after the rebellion never planned on leaving again and they'll stay here until they die.

A former peacekeeper sells tickets. His hair is unkempt and his face etched with lines but he greets Gale and I kindly. The price of tickets is high as trains take a lot to run. Most of the drivers were from the Capitol and many died in the bombing of the parliament in the Capitol so almost everyone who conducts the trains has to be taught how. So few of them run and it takes so many resources we don't have, the tickets take all of our savings and game but we've chosen a good day to leave.

Having lost so much money at once leaves me feeling drained but I stare at the tickets as we walk away.

"Two days," I say.

"Yeah, Catnip. In two days you won't have the woods anymore."

I nod slowly. In two days I'll be hundreds of miles away from everything I've ever known.

Gale continues in a teasing tone. "In two days you'll have to find a whole other talent."

I nudge him slightly but laugh anyway. "I'll drop Peeta's ticket off tomorrow. He said he'd pay us back."

"Right."

There isn't anything I can really say to Gale to ease his mind about Peeta. Peeta is my dear friend and while I'll never love him the way I love Gale, I'll always love him.

The next day is sunnier than the past while and busy for Gale and I. With one day to go we go straight to the woods to hunt and check snares. By midday, after moving so quickly, we've come up with a couple rabbits and a few squirrels. Gale suggests fishing. We come back to the house soaking from the waist down but carrying half a dozen fish.

It's reaching mid afternoon and Peeta must be closing soon, if he hasn't already.

"Can you skin these while I go help Peeta pack?" I already know Gale can skin the animals but I want to hear him say it's fine that I go. After he kissed me while crying I don't know how vulnerable he feels but I don't want to see him crying again any time soon. Or angry. He just nods, his jaw tensed but grinning a bit.

"See you soon Catnip."

I kiss him briefly to reassure him then head out with Peeta's ticket.

People in the Seam seem thinner than usual, having not eaten as much the past few days after spending too much of their time or money on the feast. Still, everyone looks relatively happy and the peace that has settled over everyone since the rebellion, since the lack or war and bombs and loss began, is priceless.

The bakery is closed when I reach it. Peeta is inside though, sweeping, and when he sees me he opens the door with a relieved smile.

"Hi Katniss. Thought you might not come. Is Gale here too?" Though he asks casually I see him looking over my shoulder and his grin tightening.

"No, he's at home." Peeta's shoulders release obvious tension. I look around the bakery. Many of the shelves have been taken apart and packed up but the heaviest ones will stay. Some suitcases stand by the wall, packed with clothing and in the mesh pockets I can see old pictures of his family. And a couple of myself. Without the loves of bread lining the wall and the many coloured cakes and cookies in the store window it looks large and bare. "It's so empty…" the thought drifts away as a lingering smell reaches me. Something is still baking, something sweet. My mouth waters but Peeta and I still have work to do. "How can I help?"

Peeta looks around. "I really don't have anything else to pack except for the stuff in the kitchen and my painting stuff upstairs. " He turns and leads me to the kitchen, which I have only been in briefly before. It's a cozy room, the counter normally cluttered with various flours and icing tools but today it is barely visible beneath stacks of pans and dishware. There are utensils I don't have names for and so many vats of strange ingredients for delicacies I've never heard of. In the corner are a few boxes meant for packing them all up.

"Will this all fit?" I don't hide the doubt in my voice.

Peeta shakes his head. "We'll go through it and see what I can throw away. The stuff we keep can go in the boxes."

"You know we're traveling by train? Which means you'll have to bring all these to the station and onto the train and out again when we get to District 2."

Peeta doesn't look too pleased but he shrugs his broad shoulders. He moves so he stands next to me, closing but not touching.

"Where will you be staying?" I ask, curious. Gale is renting a place from a former acquaintance, a place with one bedroom close to the heart of the district, but Peeta doesn't know anyone there.

He shrugs again and though the action is nonchalant I can see real worry in his eyes. "There's a few places I could rent, and a few empty stores where I could set up the bakery."

Concerned for him I take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze but when I relax it he is squeezing it back and not letting go.

I turn away and blush, feeling frustrated I can barely show Peeta these little affections without it being strange. I squeeze his hand once more and move toward the closest stack of pans, holding one up that curls like a seashell, something I saw on one of my wedding dresses when I had been engaged to Peeta. "Let's start here."

Peeta smiles and brings over a box and the next hour is filled with small talk, little stories of hunting and baking as we go through the piles and throw away half his pans and utensils. What we keep he calls the essentials but I haven't used most of them ever in my life and fitting them in the boxes is a long arduous task. When we're finished the sun is on the horizon and we are both sweaty.

"Thanks," Peeta smiles and pushes his damp bangs out of his eyes.

"No problem. What's next?"

Peeta points a finger straight up. "My painting stuff." He says it sheepishly but I haven't seen his paintings since before the Quarter Quell and I'm eager to see what he's changed his focus too. Still, a part of me dreads he's been channeling his memories of the Games into the paintings and when I see them those same memories will hit me.

I try to keep my face neutral as I follow him upstairs, past his bedroom, to his studio. He gently pushes the door open.

Beyond it is an easel on which sits a clean white canvas. A table beside it holds his brushes, paints and turpentine but a glance at the case beside it reveals those are only a fraction of the number of paints he has. This station only takes up a fifth of the room, the rest is covered with paintings lining the wall, leaning against it and lying on the floor. To my relief they aren't of the games. But to my discomfort many of them are of me.

There is a recent painting that appears still wet of me sitting on a stool, a roll in my hand but my face distracted, my lips parted with a slight smile as though I'm about to laugh. There's another a few feet away of me in the firelight at the festival, leaning on the table and smiling into the darkness. There are many of various other sites. The meadow at the edge of the Seam, others dancing in a circle at the feast, a sunset that appears as only streaks of orange and gold. They are beautiful and breathtaking but I can't help blushing when my eyes pass a picture of myself.

"Um," I begin. "Are you keeping all of these?" I sweep my hands at the pictures.

Peeta surveys the room, obviously unembarrassed by the gallery and I remember when we returned home, after the Games and he was unafraid to show his feelings, without pressuring me. "I'd like to keep them all." I can hear the sadness in his voice, how attached he's become to his paintings. "I guess I'll have to get rid of some."

I don't want to help him go through his painting, deciding which ones to keep or throw away if they depict me. I'm not sure which would be worse but sitting next to him and keeping a neutral face gets harder.

Peeta keeps the one of the meadow and the dancers and the sunset and when we get to the first painting of myself he must see what is written on my face because he suggests while he goes through them I take the bread out of the oven. While I've never done this before I'd be more comfortable getting burned than watching whatever expressions Peeta makes at those paintings.

"Sure," I am glad to hear my voice sounds normal but I have to force myself not to run from the studio. Downstairs in the kitchen, opening the oven releases a wave of heat in the room and as I slip the bread onto the paddle and inch it out I am sweating from the fire.

The bread smells of cinnamon and it takes restraint not to eat it there and then but I busy myself by tying up the various boxes of pans and utensils.

When Peeta comes downstairs it is just past sunset.

He goes to the cupboard without a word and pulls out a bag of dried fruit then holds it out in offering.

I take a handful. "Thanks. Did you have to get rid of many?"

He shakes his head and his cheeks turn pink. "Just a few. They mostly fit into the boxes. A couple are still out; they haven't finished drying."

I nod. There's silence in the kitchen and I murmur something about needing to get back home.

Peeta leads me to the door but stands in the window and points past the curtain, past the row of houses on the other side of the street where the sun has gone but the sky still holds hints of liquid gold and orange the colour of embers. "It's perfect," he stammers.

"Just like you're painting," I breathe. It truly is.

Peeta turns to me and in the late sun his eyes are a mixture of gold and blue and his hair rosy yellow. He's startlingly close to me, enough for me to see the uneven rise and fall of his chest.

I remember that feeling, in the cave in the arena and on the beach, when kissing Peeta felt right and stirred something in me. I don't realize I'm leaning toward him but when my hand touches his on the windowsill I pull away and tear my eyes from his.

He sighs quietly and pulls back as well. "When does the train leave?"

I'm glad for the subject change. I move into the last canyon of sunlight, hoping the orange light will hide the redness I feel in my face. I speak loudly, trying to hear myself over the pounding in my chest. It all feels wrong, my heart shouldn't be pounding when I'm so near Peeta, not when it pounds the same way for Gale. "10:35 in the morning. Gale and I will be there around 10. We have to pack and Gale still has to call his friend to meet us at the station when we arrive." _Which won't be for days_, I think bitterly. _Since we have to stop at every district on the way_.

"I'll pack some lunch," he smiles.

"Some dinner and breakfast too would be nice." Peeta laughs lightly and moves around me. For a moment his chest is centimeters from mine, his face bent toward mine and my breathing becomes shallow, but he keeps moving until he has walked around me toward the door.

I follow him and stand in the doorway for a second, and then I reach out a hug him loosely. He wraps his arms around me without hesitation and I lean on his chest, the way I did the night of the feast. When I pull away I'm aware of both our reluctant hands but I only glance at him for a second before turning and leaving as fast as I can.

Gale has waited patiently for me but I can see the game was skinned long ago and our fish dinner has been burned. He looks up silently when I enter. I smile but he doesn't smile back.

"Hi Gale."

"Hey Catnip."

I move to sit on the couch, sniffing the air. I lean against the arm and put my feet on his lap, he doesn't push them off but he seems distant. "What is that smell?"

"Dinner," he answers curtly and stands up, letting my feet fall to the cushion.

I follow him, getting up slowly and walking to the kitchen only to move swiftly out the way as he strides to the table with our charred fish. I poke at the flesh; beneath the blackened meat it is still tender, but not undercooked. It'll taste just like fish cooked over a fire.

"Gale, what's the matter?"

Gale doesn't look up; he sits down and stabs the fish. "Nothing."

I sit down but don't touch the fish. I don't want to push him but I won't get an answer if I don't. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

Gale does look up then and his cheeks are red as though he's been holding his breath. "You were over there for hours. To pack up his tiny bakery."

My jaw drops. I let it. "So what? I was helping him pack."

"Right. I'm sure there's so much stuff in that ten foot store that he couldn't pack without your help," the sarcasm in his voice is like a slap in my face.

"What are you saying?" My voice has risen.

"What do you think? I have to stand by watching while he looks at you the way I do and you let him. Then you spend hours there at his house. How do I know every time you see him I'm not losing you more?" He's almost shouting; his fish has been entirely forgotten.

"I can't believe you," I say, my voice tight as I try to control my anger. "Peeta is a friend. I've told you that and nothing happens when I'm around him. Don't you know you're the only one I," I stammer the next part. "The only one I feel that way for?"

Gale is silent but I can feel his anger rising like a wave from his skin. The words I've just said echo in my ears. The words Gale told me after he spoke with Madge. After they kissed. Still, after everything I've done with Peeta, the onscreen kisses and the romance in the arenas, the dancing at the feast, have I ever said the same to Gale?

"Gale, you're the only one I love. I love you." Saying these words gets easier every time and now I say them with full force, determined to make him trust me.

He is silent, and then he begins picking at his fish. "I know Catnip. I love you too."

I can't tell if the storm has passed but I know pushing it now would only make it worse.

The evening is peaceful. I know Gale is trying to make up for his over reaction by helping me haul up buckets for my bath and setting out the warmest towels for after but I remind him, every time I thank him, that I love him. When I'm clean and so is Gale and we are both dressed for bed we slip under the covers and he pulls me to him, resting my head on his arm.

"We leave tomorrow," he whispers against my cheek.

I'm staring at the ceiling; cracked white plaster that I'm amazed hasn't fallen down on us yet. "I know."

"Scared?"

I turn to him but close my eyes and lift my hand so my fingers rest on his cheek. Images of our fight when I told Gale we could run away together surface behind my eyelids. If I could overcome that fear to fight alongside him I could leave District 12. What would I really be leaving behind? "No." I pause. "You?"

Gale pulls me closer and kisses my neck gently. "Nope. No reason to be."

I lie with my back to him but I move closer to his chest and let him wrap his arms about me. I close my eyes and a pair of blue eyes stares at me. My eyes open again to the darkness of the room but I can't deny the eyes I imagine were Peeta's, watching me in Gale's arms.

The morning light stings my eyes and I try hiding my face in my hand, determined to go to sleep for a while longer. Getting to sleep was a trial last night. I could not close my eyes without seeing Peeta's eyes and the confusion kept me up almost as much as his watchful gaze did. I only drifted off when light began filtering over the horizon and y eyes were stinging with the effort to stay open. Thankfully I dreamed of nothing but now that I'm awake I can feel exhaustion in my joints and my muscles are aching.

Beside me Gale has rolled onto his side and I decide to let him rest. According to the clock we have at least three hours until we have to be at the station.

I dress quickly then go downstairs, braid my hair down my back and glance in the mirror blearily at my reflection. There are bags under my eyes, which are red. It's obvious I haven't slept well but I put a cold rag over them to make the puffiness and redness go away. Gale shouldn't have any reason to worry about me.

Most of our food we wrapped in plastic and packed away but a couple of squirrels have been put out for breakfast and lunch. I pour the last of the milk and put it on the table while the fish fry. I give Gale the bigger half, I'm not feeling very hungry, just tired.

The fish is done but Gale is still not up. I lie on the couch and close my eyes. The morning sun shifts and sends vibrant fire coloured light filtering through my eyelids. They pulse with orange and gold… like Peeta's sunset. I snap my eyes open again and see Gale standing above me, face amused. I try to smile back but my cheeks feel too tired. I settle for a grimace.

Gale doesn't seem to notice; he's preoccupied by breakfast. I pick at mine and while Gale makes faces I ignore them and grin at the end of the meal. We grab the bags in silence, Gale taking the heaviest but I take an extra one to even it out. As I reach for it Gale leans down a kisses my temple. While the gesture is comforting I can still only manage a small smile. Gale wants to ask about it but as I'm tired and confused I kiss him quiet then push him out the door before he can say anything.

Wordlessly I drop my bags and fumble with the key. The house is still in ruins but it is the only real home I've ever known. Images flash to my mind. Hunting with my father, Prim receiving Lady, hunting with Gale, dividing the bread Peeta threw to me that hungry day in the rain years ago. Then the more recent images, bombings, Finnick admitting President Snow sold him, the strange things I saw in hazes of morphling and the explosion that killed Prim. Those memories seem as old as the other ones but so surreal. I open my eyes and look around, forcing them to the back of my mind but still my eyes sting as I fumble to lock the door. I turn back and collect my backs, not meeting Gale's gaze as we walk toward the bakery. I can't divide my feelings right now, the ones of dread and fear from the memories, the ones of hope and happiness at our move and the ones of longing for my old life. Before I caused so much pain and was so scared, before Gale made so many sacrifices and Peeta began suffering. Before Prim died and I didn't see Gale for so long. A year was still not long enough but I don't know if he had a hand in the bomb that killed her and I may never, so a year was enough to want him back again. As for Peeta… I never deserved him. I meant what I said to Haymitch; of the three of us he is definitely the most selfless. As I ran from his hijacked moments and his affections, he was only ever there for me. Which made choosing Gale over him so much harder. Thinking of the moment I shared with him yesterday I'm still unsure of my feelings for Peeta.

Gale stays close to me as we walk but doesn't show his usual possessiveness with physical contact and I'm thankful. His hands on my waist or his arm around my shoulders would feel foreign now in this sadness, despite his comforting me. It's the familiar loneliness I felt after Prim died, when my mind wandered from me.

Suddenly I'm scared. I try to control my breathing, not panic, as the bakery comes closer but I can't help but remember how I acted after Prim's death. I was crazy. I have no doubt of that. I will never forget the Games, the deaths and the pain and when it surfaces…

Now I want Gale near me. I lean into him, bumping his arm uncomfortably, but he silently brushes the back of his hand against the back of mine.

Peeta is outside the bakery with over a dozen boxes, not including several suitcases.

"Peeta," I say, keeping my voice casual as though I wasn't battling an overwhelming fear in my chest. "How are you going to get those to the station?"

In answer Peeta points to a broken hovercraft that now hovers inches above the ground on wheels, like a strange metal wagon. I turn back to him. "Help me load it?" he asks sheepishly. I grin and nod and Gale soundlessly assists as well. In no time at all the wagon is loaded and Peeta awkwardly climbs on, having no space for his feet among the box and eventually resigns himself to sitting on one as he starts it up. The engine must have been adjusted to propel it forward instead of up but it doesn't look like its been adjusted well because when the wagon runs over a pothole and jumps up it hangs in the air for a few seconds before landing.

Gale and I walk behind, now he stands closer to me and almost pushes me over with his close proximity whenever Peeta glances back at us. There is an obvious sadness in Peeta's gaze and I turn away, unable to look at him.

My arms hurt when we reach the station; I realize I've been tensing my muscles to avoid letting one of the suitcases drag on the ground. I drop it gratefully on the platform where the train is loading. We unload Peeta's wagon onto the platform first then load our stuff onto the car. The car is filled with space, most passengers get off before District 12 and hardly anyone gets on at District 12. District 13 has no station, those living there prefer solitude now as their District, while not untouched by war, is less destroyed than most other Districts.

Gale and I easily store our things in compartments in the wall but Peeta's things take longer to find places for. Eventually we stack some boxes in one corner of the car. It's only 10:20 and we have time until the train will leave. The fear in my stomach has gone, for now. It's been replaced by dread at the tension there will no doubt be on the way to District 2, tension between Peeta who spends his time looking out the window, looking at me and glaring at Gale. Gale, for his part, has been very calm but I can feel his grip on my shoulder tighten when Peeta looks my way. I smile and try my best to diffuse the tension but it isn't easy to talk about anything with either of them. The history I share with both of them is so different and even if I was alone with one of them, it's too heavy a topic to bring up with the other in the room. Peeta and I talk differently than Gale and I; sometimes we have deep conversations about our fears and sometimes about nothing at all because I'm too uncomfortable to talk about something that matters. Gale and I laugh together, he makes me forget and remember and I sometimes hold things back from him but he drags them out eventually. Being with both of them makes my head spin slightly, memories of being with Peeta on the beach and in the cave, when he made me angry and when he protected me. When he was hijacked and tried to kill me and the horrified look on his face when he remembered. Between those and the recent memories I've made with Gale, his touches and our words I can hardly pretend to know how I feel about the whole thing. I feel both their eyes on me when the other is in my thoughts so I turn my brain to the window, picking out little things in the landscape as the train starts away from District 12 and picks up speed. I remember the initial shock of the speed of the train when Peeta and I sped to the Capitol for the games and a small laugh escapes me.

"What's funny?" Gale asks.

I shake my head. "Nothing." But Peeta looks over and smiles as if he remembers too. Gale slides his hand from my shoulder to my waist and Peeta's expression closes off as he continues to look out the window.

I stand and go for the canteen I filled and stowed in one of the bags. I'm not very thirsty but I drink the entire thing before resuming my seat and this time Gale wraps both arms around me and pulls me until I'm almost sitting in his lap. I can feel Peeta watching and for his sake I don't melt into Gale's arms, not that I could, I feel strange with this sort of public affection. He stands up abruptly and goes to his bags and pulls out a sketchpad then sits at another table and begins drawing.

I feel curious and I have an urge to go watch him draw but Gale is holding me close and I know how he would feel if I went away. I turn my face to his, which is difficult with his being right over my shoulder.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Good Catnip. You?" I manage to grin over my shoulder. Gale grins back but his smile falters. "You look tired."

I try to animate my face as I answer. "I didn't sleep well but I'm fine."

"You should sleep. You don't have to stay awake." He reminds me of Peeta's convincing in the Games when I stayed awake while he slept off sickness. I lean my head against Gale's chest and run a finger over the veins in his wrist. I follow them to his elbow and relax completely against Gale. I'm still in a sitting position but Gale shifts my head to his other side and pulls my feet up so I'm reclining almost sideways. I still run up and down Gale's arm but my movements become lazy as I come closer to sleep. Gale runs his lips over my forehead then across my lips. I drift off and forget about the two boys in the room that occupy my head.

I wake up to pain in my head. The train has jolted and my head against the window has hit the sill. I register a hand under my neck and on my leg and realize Gale must have fallen asleep while holding me. I pry my eyes open and the first person I see is not Gale but Peeta. He stands at the end of the seats with an expression painful to see. He looks as though he's been watching for a while; me stretched out on Gale's lap, held by him with one hand clutching his shirt in my sleep.

In one hand I see Peeta is clutching his black sketchbook and without thinking I sit up and slip between Gale's legs, grabbing for the edge of the couch so I don't fall off. Peeta moves slightly, as though to catch me, but he pulls back quickly and turns to leave.

Carefully I move Gale's hands from me and stand to follow Peeta. Then, feeling guilty I lean down and kiss Gale lightly on the lips and neck.

Peeta hasn't gone far, he's at the table he was drawing at earlier and is looking out the window again, pencil poised over the creamy white paper, but it's pitch black outside and if he can see anything to draw I'm impressed, since I cannot. I take the seat opposite him and lean my elbows on the table between us.

Peeta looks intense when he draws. I've seen this face before but not up close and though I know part of it is him trying to not look up at me the other part is how he looses himself in a drawing. He doesn't look peaceful but he isn't frowning or scowling, instead his blue eyes are wide with concentration and his mouth a straight line, his jaw tensed.

I don't say anything, just sit, hoping Peeta will acknowledge me or smile or say anything to let me know we can talk.

After a minute Peeta raises his head and his drawing expression is replaced by a boyish smile. I raise my head in surprise.

"Don't move Katniss, stay perfectly still," he directs. Suspiciously I listen to him and try not to move, though I can't help narrowing my eyes at him.

It seems like ages before he stops drawing. I can tell he's been drawing me, looking up at me every now and then turning back to his pad and scribbling with his pencil. The marks I can hear him making sound repetitive and as my neck is beginning to cramp I feel annoyed and frustrated, hoping he's almost done.

"Done," he announces and I let my head hang, rubbing my neck slightly.

"Sorry Katniss, I didn't know your neck was hurting." Peeta looks sincerely but I distract him by motioning for the picture.

Peeta blushes and stammers "It isn't very good," before laying it on the table and turning it around so I can see it.

Peeta's wrong. It's almost a perfect picture of me. But it looks much more beautiful than I see myself. They bags under my eyes are gone and my eyelashes are longer, my lips turned up slightly in a small smile. Still, he captures the waves in the hair escaping from my loose braid and my prominent cheekbones. He has shaded in my grey eyes but some there are some darker grey streaks in them and some areas it looks like he's rubbed out the pencil so they are white and shine. I can't find anything to say, I just stare at the picture.

I hear Peeta clear his throat. "You can keep it if you want."

I don't answer but I want to see what else he's drawn. I turn over a page before considering this is probably not polite without permission. But I see a drawing of a fallen leaf, one he must have either imagined or drawn when we were stopped at a station. The veins of the leaf are intricate, some parts thinner and some fatter but all connect and all are shaded. It's as though Peeta's stared at this leaf for hours and managed to capture it in a matter of minutes.

"This is amazing," I breathe. I look up and see Peeta smiling nervously.

"Thanks." I turn the next page and look up quickly to make sure Peeta isn't uncomfortable with this. He doesn't object and an unreadable expression comes across his face. This picture is in colour, sort of. It has been drawn out in pencil then filled in with one shade of yellow. It is a dandelion and I smile, remembering the dandelion years ago. I turn the page again and come face to face with a coloured picture of myself. It looks as though he's used three or four different brows to shade my hair and has done each eyelash individually. I quickly turn the page to a sunset, but not the normal orange gold sunset I associate with Peeta, this one has purples and red streaking the sky. It's vibrant and beautiful.

"Peeta," I say. "These are great, really." I smile and look up.

Peeta's face isn't at all what I expected. His eyes are shut, his face screwed up in pain.

"Peeta?" My voice sounds small.

Peeta's body jerks once, then begins to slip sideways. I abandon his sketchpad and kneel beside him, lowering his head to the floor, and then thinking better of it, to my lap. His body is jerking more violently and occasionally his eyes fly open. He is fighting it but I recognize the symptoms of the tracker jacker.

I count to sixty but he still hasn't stopped twitching. "Gale," I call. Gale doesn't respond, still asleep. "Gale!" I can't help the nerves that strangle my voice and this time Gale wakes up, sitting up suddenly and seeing me on the floor, cradling Peeta's head in my lap. At first his face holds confusion, then understanding.

"Gale, go down to the medic's car and ask him to come."

Gale is hesitating; I can see he is conflicted by the urgency in my voice and the memory of Peeta attacking me. "Gale, please!" Finally he spurs through the door at the end of the car and toward the other end of the train.

I turn my attention back to Peeta who has now begun muttering.

"Peeta?" I whisper, slightly afraid. He reaches out and grabs my wrist, holding it tightly.

"I was," he starts. "I was captured by Snow."

I nod though his eyes are shut. "Real." His grip on my wrist tightens until it hurts, is nails digging into my flesh. I know his fingers will leave bruises and his nails will leave little pink crescents but I keep myself from crying out.

"You were a mutt."

I close my eyes, wanting to cry. "Not real," I shake my head desperately. "Not real at all."

Peeta relaxes slightly but moves his hand from my wrist to my hand and holds it tightly. I squeeze back and use my other hand to push his head to the centre of my lap, then gently push his hair off his face, letting my thumb pass over his forehead, rubbing it in what I hope is a comforting way.

"Snow sold you."

I almost vomit but I have to answer Peeta. "Not real, Peeta." I don't know how long this can go on for but I dread whatever might come next.

Peeta is beginning to relax though. His hand in still in mind but his body has stopped twisting and his features are softening. Eventually he is still and I keep running my head along his forehead.

When Peeta opens his eyes and looks up at me he look surprised and exhausted. Confusion also flickers briefly there. "Katniss?"

I nod. "Hi. You alright?"

Peeta's eyes flicker back and forth between mine. "Yes. Did you," he swallows. "Did you see that?"

I nod and see Peeta's expression collapse. "Katniss, you should have left. You shouldn't have seen that. What if I'd-" He stops abruptly and looks at my hand, the one in his hand. His gaze travels up to my wrist where already purple marks are forming and one of his fingernails drew blood. His expression is unbearable horrified. "I hurt you!" I can't stand the pain in his voice so I put a finger over his lips and brush back his hair a little more.

"It's nothing Peeta. Does this happen often?"

He looks reluctant to answer. Something cold grips me. "Does it?"

Finally he answers "Not very often, less often now. Sometimes."

"Who helps you when it happens?" Though I can already guess the answer.

He looks away, hard for him since his head is on my lap but his eyes don't meet mine. "Peeta!"

He shifts his gaze back to mine. "No one."

I feel ready to cry and tears almost leak out since I'm looking down at him but I hold them back, not wanting him to feel worse than he already does. I am also suddenly angry. He's just like Gale, neither of which will let me look after them, though Peeta was accepting of my help in the arena. This is obviously not comfortable for Peeta though. He looks at my expression and his face softens. He lifts a hand to brush my cheek and brush my hair behind my ear. "I'm fine." He turns back to my wrist. "You aren't though. I hurt you. I can't believe I did."

"Peeta-" I begin but he sounds devastated and like he won't stop anytime soon.

"Katniss, I never wanted to, I'm so-"

He doesn't get the chance to finish because, like in the cave in the arena, I stop his words. My lips on his don't feel strange at all and the feeling is like coming home after a long day, like being with somebody familiar. If he's surprised he recovers quickly and is kissing me back, tenderly. His kisses are sweet where Gale's leave me thirsty. His kisses are gentle where Gale's are demanding. Comparing the two would be too hard. _Gale_.

I pull back, staring fearfully at Peeta. He is staring up at me, breathing shallowly, his eyes wide but not with confusion, more with concern. I want to look away; I can feel my cheeks going red. I can feel sickness and guilt rising in my stomach. What had I just done? I had kissed Peeta, after assuring Gale he was the only one, after Gale assured me I was the only one. After everything Gale and I had done…

I pull back, not letting Peeta's head fall to the floor but I'm not leaning over him now. I tear my eyes away and toward the door Gale left through.

We are silent for a minute during which time Peeta lifts his self onto his elbows. I move away but don't stand up, instead pulling my knees in and wrapping my arms around myself.

I can feel Peeta's eyes one me and silently beg him not to speak but he says "Katniss…"

The door to our car opens and Gale strides in followed by the medic. He walks past Peeta to me and lifts me in his arms, letting my legs pull to the floor but holding me up mostly, checking me for signs of injury. I keep my wrist by my side, hoping his eyes won't see it. Thankfully he doesn't seem to notice. Instead he looks deeply into my eyes.

"Are you okay?"

I don't want to look at him but guilt forces me to; I just hope it isn't too obvious in my eyes. "Yes."

Gale wraps his arms around me and holds on tightly, burying his face in my neck. I seek his warmth and burrow into his chest, letting some of my pent up fear go as he rubs my back but when I open my eyes I can see past Gale to Peeta who is now sitting on the couch, the medic taking his pulse, watching me with Gale and the most painful look on his face ever. It isn't accusing either. If Peeta was angry that might make it easier, the way I keep hurting him, not being able to make up my mind about him but instead he seems almost apologetic at how confused I am. I try not to look at him and instead watch Gale's chest rise and fall while he holds me. When we break away the medic is getting up. He turns to Gale and I.

"He'll be fine," he sums up. "He may have a headache but he should be fine. If it happens again, for a longer period of time, come find me, I won't be getting off until District 4."

We nod and I vaguely remember we have just barely gotten halfway to District 9.

Peeta looks a little shaky but he picks up his sketchbook and goes to his bag to put it away. When he returns he looks directly at Gale, though he speaks to both of us. "Thanks."

Gale nods and for the first time in a while his look at Peeta isn't hostile at all. He turns away and holds my hand loosely, letting me go to Peeta if I want to but I want to keep my distance from Peeta for a while. I have to. I can't bear Peeta's sad attempt to cover his look of betrayal as I follow Gale back to the couch. He pulls it out to form a bed, not a large on but bigger than the once at home. We could lie in it without touching and when Gale pulls back the covers that is what we do. I appreciate this, the way he's being careful not to hurt Peeta's feelings on my behalf, especially since I probably just hurt them past mending.

I turn my thoughts to Gale. I have to tell him what happened between Peeta and I. But when I open my mouth nothing comes out. I don't want to tell Gale now. Not when Peeta's in the same room as us, not when we're lying next to each other in bed, not on our way to our new life together in District 2, where I've convinced him to go and leave everything behind for me. Not after making a big deal about Madge. Not after getting him to admit his feelings. Not after saving him, being saved by him, after we fought together, lost together and triumphed together. I reach for his hand and relax when he holds it tightly. I move a little close so my knees are touching his and my hair is on his pillow. I roll over to face him but he can barely keep his eyes open. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek to send him off and he drifts off with a smile on his face.

I lie awake, letting the train rock me into a lulling half conscious state. I can hear Peeta shuffling around, then I hear a click and the small light that was on in his corner goes off. I hear him lie down but I can't tell when he goes to sleep, the rattling of the train on the tracks is too loud to hear his breathing but I wonder if he is listening for my breathing too. In the darkness, with Peeta unable to see, I curl up closer to Gale, resting my arm over his side, feeling his back beneath his shirt, where he will always have scars, and running my fingers along his shoulder. This motion eventually puts me to sleep.

The train jerks me awake but I can tell by the late morning sunlight and my own rejuvenated muscles that I've slept through the whole night. Gale is already awake but still lying next to me. He is smiling widely and as I blink sleep out of my eyes I wonder why. "Gale?"

"Morning Catnip. Peeta went to get breakfast."

I prop myself up on my elbow. "Okay." I'm still unsure of where this is headed but as I feel Gale shift closer to me I begin to understand. "Gale, we can't. What if he comes back?"

Gale smiles just a tiny bit wider then forces himself to sober. "I'm sure he won't Catnip." He catches my face in his hands and brushes his lips over mine, warm and inviting and something in my stomach stirs. I respond by pulling him into a kiss and putting all the heat I feel into it. When begins running his hands along my arms and curls his leg around mine I pull away.

"Katniss," he groans and tries to pull me closer but I begin crawling across the bed. I'm not fast enough though, Gale has me around the waist and pulls me along as he rolls over, holding me just above him.

"Peeta will be back soon," I say seriously but I can feel my own resolve about it slipping away as my fingers inch further under Gale's shirt. Within seconds it comes off and I'm trailing my fingers over his familiar toned torso. His own hands are roving my back and shoulders but on slides down to my hips and teases with the end of my shirt.

In all the uncertainty I've felt about leaving District 12, about the memories and pain, my mind has stumbled over the possibility that Gale could be gone. That one small change in my memory, if another bomb had gone off or Gale's injuries hadn't been treated quickly enough… Even with the Capitol being brought down, the revolution a success, if Gale hadn't been there, would it mean half as much as it did? There were so many times I could have lost Gale. Knowing this, I clutch him tighter to me and kiss him hard to stop myself from tearing up.

He trails kisses down my neck and collarbone and I rake my fingernails over his back, and then tangle my fingers in his hair. His skin is on fire, radiating a heat that makes me feel cold in comparison. I forget about the train, the world passing by outside the windows, Peeta… it's all lost under Gale's touch.

Author's Note:So I guess I'm kind of writing this regularly. Thanks for all the review so far, love them. So, for those Gale/Katniss lovers, don't despair. Her moment with Peeta was pure whim. I'm bipolar the same way Katniss is, can't decide between Gale and Peeta. But I keep coming back to Gale (sorry for all the Peeta/Katniss lovers). Anyway, I don't really know what to do next. Suggestions are welcome I guess… otherwise I'll just go for it. What I've been doing so far.


	3. Chapter 3

I break away from Gale's gentle kisses, we're lying on the makeshift bed on the floor, sheets over us, my torso curled in Gale's shirt and pulled against Gale's bare chest. I made him chase me, run after me and kiss me breathless before pulling me down to the bed with him. It made me laugh in a way I hadn't in a while. I make to put on my pants and being away from Gale's touch, when we're like this, is almost physically painful, it sends sharp pains through my chest but as soon as we both have pants on he kisses me again.

"Love you Catnip," he says between kisses. He has yet to put a shirt on and I'm prepared to take it off and give it back to him when the door opens.

Peeta stands, holding a tray in his hand but seeing us I can see the tray is almost ready to drop and only by clenching his hand tightly does he keep it upright, though tea sloshes over the sides of the three mugs.

I picture in my mind's eye what we must look like, me in Gale's shirt with red cheeks, swollen lips and messy hair, hanging around Gale's neck. Gale is shirtless, his hair sticking out in all directions, one of my hands tangled in his hair at the base of his neck, one hand around my waist, the other in my belt buckle. It's clear we've just been doing something but I feel sick at the expression on Peeta's face and I can't tell if I'm turning redder or if my face has become void of colour. Peeta's own face looks like every muscle in it is tensed and his eyes cloud over with something I can't name but it is too intense and I shift my gaze elsewhere though he keeps his gaze trained on my face. In the midst of the sickness I feel I feel even worse for not meeting Peeta's eyes. After everything, I owe him that much. Why did everything have to be so complicated? I force my eyes to his but he is already walking toward the table and setting the tray on it.

"I already ate," he says in a clipped voice. "Brought you some stuff."

The tray indeed holds a few rolls, not the kind made by Peeta but they look good anyway, two mugs of tea and a bowl of slices of pale purple melon. I can feel hunger somewhere in my stomach but the whirlwind of emotions pushes it down. I make no move for the food but Gale does, pulling me along behind him to the table where he slips comfortably into a seat. I stare at the food, glancing up at Peeta who has reached for his notebook on the table again.

Gale takes a sip of tea. "Thanks," he says casually then turns to me and catches my eye with a grin. I manage a shaky one back. "I'm going to need my shirt back eventually."

I feel my smile slip and the nausea rise up, making the scene around me sway.

Peeta turns abruptly and leaves the car, his heavy footfalls echoing on the metal floor. I take a step toward him. I utter the first syllable of his name but he's already gone. The fact that I don't know where or for how long twists painfully in my stomach.

"Catnip," Gale's voice makes me tear my eyes away from the door. He looks too serious as he takes my hand. Not understanding but at least not angry. "What's wrong? He had to find out eventually."

I don't answer because I know he's right but I still can't stand closing my eyes and seeing Peeta's looking back at me with betrayal. "I have to find him," I answer, pulling my hand out of his and making for the door.

"Katniss, just leave it alone! Why do you care?" He's angry now, he's risen from his seat and his eyes have darkened.

"Because he's my friend, Gale. I have to make him understand…"

"Understand what? That you're mine? That you chose me?" He sounds uncertain as he says it, as though he's waiting for me to verify his own words.

"Yes," I say quietly, trying to calm both of us. "I don't love him that way but I care about him. I want him to be happy."

Gale moves closer, hands out as if he would take me in his arms. "Maybe you can't make him happy."

His words feel like a slap. "If I'm yours, why do you care if he likes me? Every other girl has her eyes on you and at some point you've had your eyes on some of them? Why does my friendship matter?" I didn't mean for my words to be so harsh or to have such an effect but Gale flinches and the familiar whipped look appears. I want to run from this situation, disappear so I don't have to hear whatever Gale has to say next. I follow my instincts, tripping over my own feet in my rush to get out of the car. I run through the next car, interrupting some conversations, crashing into others and causing a few people to reach for something to steady themselves. I keep my head down and don't stop running until I've reached the next compartment where I start taking in my surroundings more.

Our car was at one end of the train, the less busy end where almost nobody boards and I'm glad because all our boxes and cases would have had no space here where there are at least five people in this car and more in the cars further along.

There isn't any evidence of Peeta here but he probably didn't crash through the compartments the way I did, pushing aside everyone in the process.

I travel further and further, past the dining car where the smell of food makes my appetite bigger and past a car with what appears to be a very wealthy family sipping something I recognize as hot chocolate. Still, I press on.

Peeta is at the very end of the train, crouched against a window, eyes scanning the landscape, pencil poised over his pad but I can see he hasn't made any lines.

"Peeta?" He looks up at my voice but not even recognition is apparent in his eyes. He looks at me the way he would look at a stranger who didn't seem friendly. I shiver, the look chills me but I come closer and take a seat opposite him. He shuts his pad with a loud noise and I flinch, biting the inside of my cheek, which after all these years of biting, must be scarred beyond belief.

"Peeta, I'm sorry." That's how I start because I can't think of any other way to begin. Peeta doesn't look at me, he keeps his eyes looking out the window but I watch for changes in his expression. When he shows none I sigh and continue. "When we left the arena, I still loved you. I still love you now. I hate when we can't speak or when we're uncomfortable, but… I love Gale. I always will. He makes me happy."

"I want you to be happy," Peeta says it so quietly at first I'm sure I must have imagined it but he turns to me and continues. "I love you Katniss but if I'm not the one you choose," he pauses and takes a deep breath, looking down at his hands. "I'm never going to love anyone else. You'll be the first and last person I ever love."

It's this behaviour of Peeta's, his openness and honesty that feels like a punch in the gut but also stirs in my chest with warmth. It also tears me apart.

"You were the first person I ever loved," I whisper because it's true, I always loved Gale as a brother until after I loved Peeta. "Please, please don't do that. Find someone else; be happy. _Please_," I plead but I can see his face, the one he makes when I won't win an argument.

"I can't," he says simply. I want to beg him to say he'll get over me. So maybe I can get over him. It's selfish but part of it is also that I want him to be happy. Just for himself. I feel tears building up and leaking out before I can stop them. Now I wish I had Gale's comfort but it's Peeta that stands up, comes to my side and puts his arm around me in a friendly way, not pressuring me or pushing any boundaries. "It's alright Katniss," he says. "I'll always be here and if we can be friends I'll be happy."

_Not happy the way you deserve_, I think but right now I can only concentrate on holding back my tears even though it causes me to hiccup.

Eventually I calm down and relax against Peeta, just resting my head on his shoulder before puling it away. "I didn't tell Gale. About the kiss."

Peeta is silent but I don't doubt he knows what kiss I'm talking about. Finally he speaks. "Don't tell him."

My head shoots up and I look at Peeta, honest Peeta who would never lie. Who, as far as I know, never has, lied. He must see my confusion and surprise because next he says, "Don't ruin what you two have over me. If we had that I wouldn't want you to tell me, as long I knew you were mine."

I stare at Peeta, mulling over his words. It makes sense yet I feel as though I'm betraying Gale by considering it. "He doesn't like how close we are," I say, feeling even guiltier for talking about Gale's feelings to Peeta, of all people.

Peeta nods and his expression is foreign to me. Unlike Gale who's face I can almost read as though I'm reading his thoughts. Peeta seems to have changed since the revolution. I look him over, really, for the first time in a long time. He sits taller than he used to and looks me in the eye more. He still has a nervous habit of letting his hair fall in his eyes and he still grins in the same way but his shoulders and broader and his jaw more defined. He has stopped being the boy with the bread; he is turning into a man. This causes another confusing mix of emotions; fear that I'm missing as everyone around me grows and curiosity at myself. If I've grown. If I'm taller or if I stand differently or if I haven't grown, if I've been stuck behind everyone.

I smile at Peeta and he smiles back. He wraps his fingers around my hand but when we stand, after giving it a reassuring squeeze, he lets it fall. I can tell with this simple gesture that he means we can be friends. We can talk and laugh and share embraces without causing too much pain for either of us. Maybe in another world, if Gale had lost himself to his desire to get revenge, if I had been a better person, braver, and stayed by Peeta, I would be with Peeta. But I'm that person now and the timing wasn't right. And there's Gale. Gale who's waiting for me.

Gale who, when Peeta assures me he's alright and wants to stay for a while, I run down the train to. Who is standing with a half hurt and half concerned expression on his face when I burst through the door.

Gale who angrily begins "I don't love any of them, not one. I have a history, I know, but I lo-" before I wrap my arms around him and cover his lips with mine, running my hands through his hair and pulling him closer to me.

He abandons any attempt at talking and lifts me off the ground by placing his hands in the small of my back and leaning back. When I pull away I whisper frantically "I'm sorry. I know. You did love them. Once." I resume kissing him but he lowers me to the floor and gentle puts his hands on my arms, pushing my shoulders until my face breaks away from his.

"Almost none of them. Not even Madge."

His words stop me cold. That's why he had danced with Madge. Madge had been one of his romantic encounters. That's why he was so desperate to make me understand. That's why Madge had been so hurt and Gale had spoken to her, shared that look… I feel the coldness sinking into my stomach and branching out, reaching with long claws around my insides and choking them. Gale seems to have noticed the effect this has on me because he pulls back and looks at me, puzzled. "Catnip?" Not even his nickname for me can make me feel better though because the thought I had after they kissed, after the image of their lips touching was burned into my mind, that she might be better for him, has pushed itself to the front of my mind from the dusty corner it sat in.

I grab for a seat and Gale has the good grace to lower me into it but as he gentle places me there and squats next to me, rubbing his thumb over my palm I can only feel myself getting angrier until I pull my hand away.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Think about it," I snap. I've been so many people, the Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay and now that I'm finally back to being Katniss Gale has decided to be as confusing as ever. I recount our friendship before the reaping and the first Games. Neither of us made a move and only Gale made a move when I returned. We shared kisses and fights and tears during the rebellion and now, when the war has ended and Panem is being rebuilt, so is our relationship. But for every couple of steps forward it feels as though we take two steps back.

Gale watches my face nervously and I glare at him, not bothering to hide the volley of fury growing in me. Slowly realization dawns on him and his mouth opens in shock. "You didn't know about Madge?" he manages weakly.

"Good job," I cross my arms and my knees, closing myself off from him but I sit, staring at him while he thinks of something to say.

He shakes his head as though he doesn't believe it. "Madge and I, we went on one date. We had one kiss. Not counting that night. It doesn't matter."

In truth I know that if it is in the past, it shouldn't matter. I never asked Gale who the other girls were and he had no reason to specifically tell me Madge. I suppose after the feast I should have wondered why it was Madge but the thought that she is a good match for him still haunts me. I don't move; don't say anything and I have to remind myself to breathe while Gale looks up at me.

"Why does it matter that it was Madge?"

_Because she really loves you_, I want to shout. But I can't. Not without hurting him and our relationship. Our friendship and whatever else we have. Besides, isn't this what I've been angry with Gale for? For being threatened by Peeta when all we were was friends? Sure Gale kissed Madge, but I kissed Peeta. At least Gale was honest about it and I want so desperately to tell Gale about the kiss with Peeta but Peeta was right, it would only make things worse from here.

In apology I uncross my body and lean forward to kiss him. I kiss him the way I did when we first fell in love. He can feel my desperation in the way I wrap myself around him and he responds by looping his arms around my lower back and pulling me close. When we break away he whispers in my neck, "Losing you would destroy me." Then he pulls back and looks at me with his perfect face and beautiful gray eyes. I don't even thin about it, I kiss him again, slowly and softly and somehow more maddening than the first time. I feel the heat, the fire in my stomach ignites but what's between us is less physical, more personal.

When we stop for breath asks in a raspy voice, "I wonder what district we're at?"

I glance out the window at dozens of colourless factories whirring by. Textile trucks are held up in the streets, blocking each pass and grid locking the city. It looks like District 8 but I can't be sure. I just know it isn't District 2, our new home. I shrug and return to Gale's hopeful face and smile, pressing my forehead to his. He smiles back and puts a hand on my neck, bringing my face closer to his and kissing it. When he pulls back he says something that makes me laugh the way nobody else can. "Can I have my shirt back?"

Author's Note:

Firstly, sorry this chapter isn't as long. I usually like writing longer chapters but I have a few questions:

Do you think Katniss and Gale and Peeta all made up too fast?

Do you think that's enough Katniss/Gale/Peeta drama for now? I wanted to get back to the Gale/Katniss relationship for a while.

I wanted to make it a bit grittier and add more action, plus I really like when Katniss looks after Gale. I was thinking of adding some sort of gang stuff with Gale's old District 2 friends when they get there.

The thing is, I started writing this for myself so I don't have any idea where I'm going with it. Normally I wouldn't ask for help but if I don't get ideas then Ill drop the story until I get an idea, which could be anytime between now and six months from now, which means I wouldn't update the story for a while. Which you guys supposedly want me to do. So help me out. Keep in mind though; I'm only taking suggestions. Anyway, thanks a bunch for all the reviews, love them.


	4. Chapter 4

Peeta came back briefly but left again for lunch. He's obviously giving Gale and I space, not that we need it. Gale is constantly near me, keeping a hand on my waist or tangled in my hair. Even when we're focusing on something, like how we're going to set up our new apartment, he takes a strand of my hair and wraps it around his finger, brushing it against my collarbone and speeding up my breathing.

Nightfall is coming soon and while my stomach is growling I'm too lazy to get up. Gale has pulled me onto his lap and taken advantage of the moment and rubs up and down my back. With my head rested against his chest I can hear the acceleration of his heartbeat. He kisses me gently and I make little to no effort to stop him, welcoming his open lips on mine and his hands on my waist, fingers digging into my hips.

"Tired yet?" he asks between kisses. I shake my head but when the door to our car rattles I move off his lap and disengage myself from him. Peeta glances in our direction but doesn't smile. He goes straight to his favourite seat and begins drawing again.

I still feel guilt for kissing Peeta. Gale and I shouldn't have any lies but Peeta's words also made sense. Gale leans over and whispers "Love you Catnip. Only you." His words make me bite my cheek until blood beads up from the cut. I have to tell him the truth; to stop the awful churning in my stomach that stops me from eating the meal Gale brings me minutes later.

Peeta has given us enough alone time today but he still makes himself scare minutes before we go to bed. In those minutes I guide Gale to the couch. He still hasn't pulled it out to make our bed and I don't let him, sitting down and settling my hands uselessly in my lap before he can.

Gale sits next to me and raises his arm to pull me closer but I shake my head. His arm slowly lowers but the look on his face is still baffled.

"I want to tell you something…" I start my voice small, and I bring my legs closer to my body.

Gale stays silent, he can tell he isn't going to like this but he keeps his body open, offering comfort I don't deserve. As the words tumble out of my mouth I remember my conversation with Haymitch before the Quarter Quell, begging him to keep Peeta safe, agreeing I wouldn't deserve him if I lived a hundred lives. Now I consider how much I don't deserve Gale, how I couldn't deserve him in a hundred lifetimes. If he's given me this many chances and I still don't deserve him, how could one more make me a better person. Better suited for Gale?

When I'm done he sits there for several tense moments and I see his body contracting from me. I know I have no right to his arms but it doesn't stop me from wanting wrap them around myself. When he speaks his voice sounds rough and restrained. "You kissed Peeta."

I don't deny it but I can't think of anything to say. I told him I wouldn't again, told him I'd talked with him, that we were friends, but there was nothing new I could say to assure him.

He doesn't say anything so I stand and walk to the other couch, putting distance between us that matches the distance I feel emotionally. Gale pulls out the couch and lays down in the bed, above the sheets, his back to me. This frightens me. Gale has always been ready to argue and yell when he's angry. His lack of words and avoidance of my gaze and, when I lie next to him, my touch makes me feel sick. It's as though his fury and his hurt have turned him to ice, cold and cracking and sharp. So I'm not surprised that when I pull the sheets up around me and roll away from him I feel cold.

We've passed District 3. In less than an hour we'll be at District 2 where we'll unload and walk to our new home.

It is almost evening and Gale hasn't spoken to me since last night. Despite Peeta's obvious sympathy, which he's shown by bringing me food and drawings of the passing landscape, I can't meet his gaze. He and Gale, as much as they dislike one another they have something in common. I've hurt both of them.

I'm fairly exhausted. While I can't remember my dreams last night I must have thrashed and moved around because when I woke up, early enough that morning light was still hindered by the mist outside, Gale had pulled out another couch into a bed and was asleep under the covers. I stifled a whimper when I saw him so far, missing his earthy smell and warmth. His rough hands and soft hair and the way his body molded to mine. It had been less than a day but right now I missed his grin and the shine in his grey eyes.

I tried and failed to go back to sleep this morning and when Gale got up I shut my eyes, feigning slumber, until I heard the door of our car open and close, indicating he had gone to get breakfast.

I showered and dressed and braided my hair, ignoring the ache in my chest and the weakness in my exhausted body. Still, I didn't have the heart to eat the breakfast Peeta brought me. I picked at the lunch he gave me, eating the roll and swallowing the applesauce without vigor.

Now the monotonous landscape of evergreen trees has appeared and I watch it as though fascinated, when it's only a way to keep my eyes busy while my brain turns off. For the first time since the rebellion, I'd welcome the drugs that I'd once been given. The comfortable haze morphling had brought to my head. But that was a while ago, when I was the mockingjay. Now I'm just me.

In a way I feel closer to Peeta. Not romantically, I feel too numbed to be close to anyone that way. I feel too close to the way I was after Peeta was captured. As though I've really lost Gale, as though I've really stopped trying. What's holding me up is the fact that Gale hasn't gotten off the train and turned around. That I woke up and he and his bags were still here. But now I understand how Peeta must feel, having had me and lost me. Now I've lost Gale. And who knows for how long?

Peeta comes through the car door and places another tray in front of me, though the one from lunch and the untouched breakfast are still on the table. For his sake I turn up the corners of my mouth and lift the spoon to my lips but I imagine what I must look like, shoulders slumped and expression bleak. As I chew and swallow mechanically I don't feel hungry.

The train pulls away from the landscape of greenery into an impressive city. District 2 is shining. Not with the candy colours of the Capitol but from what I can see most buildings are made with grey brick, silver metal or dark glass. Some are tall and others arecloser to the ground, grittier. The people walking around are not the strange doll-like creatures I once saw in the Capitol. They are more decorated than citizens of District 12 but less garish than the coloured birds I once associated these people with. Without the extravagances of the Capitol, they have less to hold themselves to.

Gale has been sitting with a book for an hour, waiting as impatiently as me to reach our destination. I can tell he isn't reading, he turns the pages at erratic intervals and sometimes his eyes stop scanning them, resting on one spot. He isn't much of a reader. Though he can read I've never seen him willingly pick up a book, he has too much energy to sit a silently stare at a page, constructing a story in his head. That's always been his way, that's been the way of anyone who's had to fight to survive. It unnerves me that he sits so still now.

Finally the train comes to a stop and I stand, stretching out the kinks in my bones and the pains in my muscles. Gale stands but does not stretch, though I can see he walks stiffly to the baggage. Peeta is already struggling to carry three boxes through the threshold and I help him, mostly to avoid brushing against Gale as he reaches for his bags next to mine.

Finally, when all our things are on the platform I turn to Gale, waiting for him to say something, anything, to assure me he hasn't abandoned me.

"It's this way," he jerks his head but does not start moving. I bite the inside of my cheek; he hasn't decided to leave me all alone, and that is enough to warm the ice in my stomach to chilly slush.

Another thought crosses my mind and I turn to Peeta, though I keep my distance from him. "Where are you going?"

Peeta has already spotted a trolley and is stacking boxes on the strong metal base. "Closer to the square. I've already arranged a ride. I'll be staying there until I find a place to set up the bakery." He doesn't say what I know is worrying him, that he won't find a place to sell his goods, or that they won't compare to those of District 2 but I don't bring it up either.

I think of how he might be the same distance from us as he was in District 12 and how it may be the same way. I may not see him for weeks on end until I wander far enough toward the square and happen to bump into him. I bite my cheek harder. "Will you stay in touch?"

Here Peeta smiles, looking like the boy with the bread that I always knew, so optimistic, with a spirit it would be too hard to break. "Yes. You gave me the number to your new place. It's in my book." It isn't until then that I realize he's clutching his sketchpad in his hand.

I nod, feeling relieved to have done something right. "Bye Peeta," I say because I can't think of anything better. I reach out and pull him into a hug, trying to apologize by holding him tightly. He holds me tenderly but wraps his arms around me waist, letting his hands touch his own wrists and not me. When we pull away he smiles.

"Bye Katniss." He nods to Gale but Gale is looking away, his mouth a hard line.

Peeta is still loading the trolly but Gale and I begin to walk, I a few feet behind him but keeping my eyes trained on his back so I don't lose sight of him. With the sights of the city though it's hard not to become distracted and once or twice I lose Gale for a moment, feeling the panic rising up in my throat until I glimpse him in the crowd and sprint close enough to fall into him. We pause at an intersection where people, too many people are crossing bumping into one another. I feel myself being pushed backward and it's a struggle to get to the spot where I just stood. Gale is no longer there.

"Gale?" I ask, but my voice is drowned out by the sound of the crowd around me. Before I can think to calm down panic rises in my chest. I call Gale's name again, pushing against people, some of whom appear to recognize me and respond with different faces, some I read as fear, surprise, and many face I cannot read. But I ignore them all, calling for Gale. I can feel the fear rising in my throat like bile as I called as loudly as I can.

A hand grabs mine, reaching through the crowd. I hold back a shriek and turn on the ball of my foot, muscles tensed. But it's Gale. He is there, broad shoulders holding people on either side of us as he grips my hand tightly. His face is impassive and I try to wipe mine clear of emotion. "This way," he says lowly and turns, still holding my hand, half leading and half dragging me across the intersection. I hold on for what could be, in a stampede like this, dear life.

I hold on and dread the moment I will have to let go.

The apartment is at the centre of what they call in District 2 "downtown." It sounds like an archaic term but seems to describe their version of the Seam. There is a trade center but with the urban landscape it doesn't appear like the Hob, with illegal trade and merchandise. The trade centre is made up purely of goods the people manufacture in the District.

The apartment is part of a three-story building, unusual in District 12 but here there are heights tall enough to make me dizzy by looking up at them. The apartment covers not only the ground floor but also the second and the third. The house is made of three apartments, ours being at the west end. It is made of brushed silver metal and while it isn't as pristine as many other buildings, it is far nicer than any residence I've ever seen in District 12.

The crowds have long passed us and Gale released my hand, which felt strangely cold without his holding it. He pulled out a key and soundlessly opened the door, holding it open for me. I wedged my suitcase in the way of it and heaved the rest of the bags over the threshold.

We let the door swing shut and I followed him to the kitchen with the first of the boxes. He set them down and before I could open my mouth he brushed past me, carefully avoiding my gaze but I saw the anger that smoldered in his eyes. He picked up one of my bags and began up the stairs. I grabbed my other bag and followed him, taking note of how clean and in tact the house was. It looked untouched by the rebellion.

Gale disappeared behind a door and I heard a thud as the bag hit the floor. He was out of the room and pounding down the stairs again before I could reach for the door. His coldness made me shiver but I opened the door and glanced at the bedroom. The one I wouldn't be sharing with Gale anytime soon.

The walls were off white and the window flooded with light. It was small but a bed was already stationed, clean sheets folded over the bare mattress. There was no other furniture but a closet to the side with shelves was fine for storing my clothes.

I stay in the room much longer than I should. I don't want to face the quiet main floor where Gale is probably unpacking without my help. It's guilt and hunger that eventually drive me to the kitchen where he is standing, until he sees me and brushes past, into the other room. I don't follow immediately, letting him cruse past me, away, cold settling around me.

What makes me turn around and follow him is only my instincts, letting pure hysteria overrule my senses and bringing me to a stop in front of him. Gale twitches his head as though he would look up at me but he keeps his eyes down on the box he's tearing open.

"Gale," I say but I've said it too softly and I can't tell if he's heard me or if he's ignoring me. I repeat his name loudly, half shouting, forcing him to look up at me. If I were smart I would wait for him to speak to me, for him to cool down. So much for strength.

"What Katniss?" His voice is as bleak as his expression, his shoulders hunched, his eyes shadowed.

"What's…going on?" I finish lamely.

He stares up at me and I bite the ragged flesh inside my cheek, feeling droplets of blood rolling down the side and pooling on my tongue. "Nothing."

It's the short one word answer that causes me to bite harder, tasting iron and bile at the same time. I feel like spitting at the ground but I have to get my words out.

"Am I not your girlfriend anymore? Are we even friends?"

Gale sighs and glances down for a second. When he raises his eyes again I can see he's about to speak to me the way one speaks to a moody teenager. As though I'm only annoying him, making him weary instead of causing myself pain by speaking to his closed off face.

"Katniss-" but I cut him off.

"It was nothing Gale. Peeta and I are nothing. But I guess we're nothing too. If we were back in District 12 we wouldn't even be hunting every Sunday because you'd be off with one of the many other girls that runs after you and I would have let the Capitol push me to Peeta. And you'd be fine with it because according to you Peeta and I belong together instead and you and I!" I didn't plan on saying much and I occasionally have to stop to swallow back blood but as I finish I can feel it's too much and I make for the sink. I don't want to see Gale's expression anyway. It's so strange and alien it makes me feel as though I've slapped him and as I bend over the sink and spit out wads of stringy scarlet I feel shame burning in my cheeks. As my tongue brushes over the tear in my flesh I cringe.

Gale has followed behind me without a word. He holds out a white cloth and I can imagine what I look like to him. Flushed red with gobs of blood stuck on my lips and cheeks, probably on my neck too. I ignore his cloth and go to get my own and I hear him sigh. I resist the urge to turn around and hurl a sulky insult.

I wet the cloth and rub my face until the cloth is not stained red. When I've washed it out I soak it in cool water and bite down, letting the water fill my mouth and soothe my cut.

Gale stands watching and eventually I take the cloth out, feeling foolish and still flinching at the soar in my mouth that will no doubt ache for the rest of the day. I turn on my heel and leave the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. I linger at the top, hoping for a moment that Gale will call me back but the silence crushes those hopes and puts a pressure on me so strongly I feel if I don't go to my room and find some noise I'll suffocate.

In my room I fling the window open so aggressively it's a surprise it stays on its hinges. Noises from the street flood the space around me, as relieving as an oxygen mask. I feel as I did after the first games, when I spent days in bed, in and out of consciousness, never sure if I was truly awake or not. I let the sounds of talk and cars and wind wash over me. I cannot hear Gale walking around downstairs, as if he isn't here and I never left District 12. As if I'm in that house alone, as if I never forgave Gale and asked him to stay, as if he had left for District 2 forever. That's exactly how I feel.

I wake up with my head on my forarm, aching with the weight of it on the windowsill. Outside there are still lights though the sky is pitch black, some flashing as cars drive past. I catch whiffs of gasoline and pull the window closed.

The house is silent and I wonder if Gale has gone to sleep in his room. Resisting the urge to check is hard but as I kick my shoes off and lay in bed I feel better about hardening my resolve against him.

My first thought is to call Peeta. To seek his comfort. But I'm not sure if I can, I know I don't deserve it. I've done too many unforgivable things to him and he has forgiven all of them. As if I didn't have any flaws. I wish he could see me for what I am, much more pathetic and selfish than what he thinks I am. But Peeta never has, except when he was hijacked.

A smaller voice in my mind chimes in that speaking to Peeta wouldn't help things with Gale anyway. A larger voice, the voice that tells me to run from danger or hide in time or trouble, tells me that it doesn't matter. Gale has clearly chosen to have nothing to do with me. He'll move on. He'll leave this house soon and when I can't afford it I'll move back to District 12 and live alone. Without Peeta or Gale. After dragging them here it's all I can do to choke back a bitter laugh, but I can't choke back the tears. My throat is thick and I wonder how I'll ever fall asleep but that is the last thing I remember thinking…

I dream too much, visions I can't remember but they disturb me enough to wake me every hour or so. When I know I can't go to sleep I force myself out of bed, even though I can see out the window the sun is barely rising over the tops of the District houses, mostly blocked out by the blinding glass towers.

My head pounds as I make my way to the shower, turning it on and stabbing at buttons, guessing at what makes it icy and scolding. When it's hot enough to turn my skin pink I sink to the bottom of the tubs and lean back, letting the water wash over my face and the steam fill the bathroom and block out thoughts of whoever else might be in the house right now. It is enough to cloud my mind but my fingers are remembering the softness of Gale's hair and my arms remember his warmth, enough to make me shiver under the steady jet of water. 'Running my tongue over the cut in my cheek I silently promise myself I won't bite it at all until it's fully healed. _Great_, I think. _Another lie._

When the water begins to run cold I turn it off but stay in the shower a few moments longer, letting the feeling soak through my skin. By the time I climb out and reach for a towel I'm mostly dry.

I go to my room and dig out a plain shirt and pants, pulling them on with robotic movements. My hair is wet enough to drip down my back as I braid it but when I wipe a hand over the fogged mirror and look in the dim glass to see myself looking normal I feel almost better.

There isn't anything to do here yet. I could stay and try to figure out with Gale how we're going to make a living, what we're going to do. But maybe Gale really is planning on moving back to District 12, or maybe he'll kick me out of this house. I curse myself for thinking that second thought; Gale isn't cruel enough to do that. Still, I know that now it isn't a decision Gale and I are making together. Probably my best hope for today would be to wander around, get to know the area.

I go downstairs as quietly as possible, unused to the lack or creaking as I take each step. Gale is nowhere to be seen but he may still be in bed, since I did wake at the crack of noon. Thankfully he unpacked most of the food yesterday and I force down a piece of bread with cheese before heading out the door.

Unlike District 12 the streets are not full of citizens in the early hours of the morning. It appears most people around here can afford to sleep in, to not wake up and work for most hours of the day to put food on the table.

I recall Peeta telling me he lives near the square and I find myself drifting toward it, trying to remember which ways Gale pulled me yesterday across busy intersections where only a few people walk around, faces pulled down, not registering anything but their own paths.

I see no sign of schools or market vendors that District 12 offers, only the sleek buildings and strange colourful shop windows with luxuries I've hardly been able to afford or have never seen.

Thanks to years of walking around the forest my sense of direction must be stronger than I thought for I find my way to the square with ease. Peeta mentioned a shop but there are dozens around and his won't have his trademark cakes in the window so soon. It may take all morning to find his shop but I work strategically, starting at the corner of one street, walking down one side, up the other and around the corner to repeat it.

I feel the sun warming my back as I walk and eventually stores begin opening up, though many of the windows had been blocked through the night and I have to start my search all over to make sure I haven't missed any.

It's a comfort to be around human noises again. During the rebellion I would have given anything to be in District 12, friends with Gale and home with Prim and Mother, with things the way they used to be. I would have enjoyed the silence that now fills District 12. Though I love it, and I love the peace there now, I missed the sounds I heard during the peaceful times of the games. The first time Peeta and I really laughed together, or when Cinna first presented me in a stunning dress. The noise around me at those times were welcome and I forgot how to live without them. The noise around me now is the same, not he harsh screams and sound of bombs dropping, or the wind whistling through vacant branches and over the mossy forest floor. It's just there in the background.

I find myself pausing at some store windows, looking at the array of books and clothes and goods I had never considered buying, even when Peeta and I returned rich from the games.

I walk down and up three streets before coming to a window with nothing in it, but beyond the grimy glass I see a blond figure pulling various pans out of boxes. I cup my hands around my eyes to avoid the glare of sunlight and press my face to the window. I can't help grinning when I see Peeta and the stunned look on his face when I knock on the door. He puts his box down and comes to unlock it, then opens it for me to come inside. I embrace him quickly, the way I would a friend then turn to what he's already set up.

A brushed metal counter that came with the shop is already covered in his loaves, though some of them sit on a rack near the door. I see another empty rack against the adjacent wall and I can smell dough baking in a room off to the right.

"It's nice," I say.

"Thanks," Peeta picks up a huge sack of flour and disappears for a moment into the other room then returns with a loaf of bread. He looks at it for a second then holds it out.

"No thanks," I say quickly. "We still have a lot of bread at home."

"Okay, but you can always get some here Katniss." He puts the bread on the rack and wipes some flour on his apron. "How did you find this place?"

I shrug. "I walked around the square until I found it. It wasn't too hard and I liked the walk."

"Nothing like walking in the forest, huh?"

I shake my head. "It isn't, but I like it anyway. It's a chance to get out of the house." I didn't mean to say that last part, to give any allusion to what's going on between Gale and I. I also surprised myself by referring to the house so easily, as though I've been living there more than one night. Peeta's eyes narrow suddenly.

"How is it with you and Gale?" He doesn't sound accusatory, more worried and gentle.

I turn away and busy myself by looking at one of the overflowing boxes. "He's not… speaking to me. I didn't see him this morning but I woke up early so…" I don't really want to talk about Gale with Peeta but I need someone to say these words to.

Peeta sighs and squeezes my shoulder. "I wish he wasn't so angry with you. It's my fault Katniss."

I shake my head. "It wasn't. I kissed you, then I told him. I keep hurting him, and you."

We sit in silence and I keep my face down, convinced I'm not doing a good job of holding my emotions in. When Peeta moves to hug me I'm sure I must look tired and sad.

"Are you alright?" he whispers.

I nod, pressing my face to his chest. There isn't anything romantic happening right now, Peeta is just being a friend, comforting me. "He won't talk to me. Like when we first came out of the games. I keep thinking he's going to leave and…" but I don't say anymore because I don't want to start crying. I've done too much of that lately.

"Katniss, don't think he's going to abandon you. Nobody could abandon you."

I want to believe Peeta's words so much. "But I disappoint everyone, I don't even know why you're here. I don't know why he's here. I used to want to protect everyone I loved, now I just, I'm just selfish."

Peeta rocks my head. "You are not a disappointment. I'm here because I care about you and you aren't selfish. If he makes you feel that way then… You have no idea the effect you can have."

I let Peeta's words sink in, let him comfort me a little longer, then push him away, staring at the ground, embarrassed.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

I look up and nod, then manage a smile. My moment of tears and sadness makes me feel foolish, for not being strong, but Peeta just looks at me with concern and caring. He grins back.

"He'll get over it. He'll miss you. I know I would." He looks like he regrets saying the last part and I almost wish he hadn't but he's just being honest. I remain unconvinced by his words and he senses this, "You'll see Katniss. You'll go home and he'll be waiting there to kiss you and ask how you are."

I shift uncomfortably. "Gale once said kissing me was like kissing someone who's drunk," I murmur, expecting Peeta to laugh and chuckling a little at it myself because even though at the time we were in the middle of the rebellion and I was conflicted about him and Peeta, it feels strange to remember how I let him kiss me then and how I kiss him now. Peeta doesn't laugh though; he looks surprised, then angry. He shakes his head and is about to speak so I quickly say "That was a long time ago. And he had a point. That's when I still felt bad about kissing him because of," I bite my lip, instead of my cheek, to avoid saying _you_.

"I can't imagine kissing you being like that at all," he says and we are back to being awkwardly silent.

"I just wish he'd say something to me," I say and we are quiet a minute longer.

I gesture to the boxes around us, desperate to fill the silence. "Do you need any help unpacking?"

Peeta hesitates then smiles and nods. "Sure, if we can get it all done by lunch I can have some cheese buns ready." My mouth waters and I nod enthusiastically.

For the next couple of hours I unload pan after pan and arrange loaf after loaf on the shelves. Peeta and I talk occasionally and when it gets too hot in the store we open the door and let the cool air and outdoor sounds filter into the shop, creating a comforting atmosphere that needs no talking. This is what it felt like to be with Madge, to have a friend who I could talk to but didn't always have to. When we're done Peeta brings out fresh cheese buns and we sit outside the shop, eating them together on the step.

I take a brief moment to wonder what Gale's doing, if he worried when he woke up and I wasn't there. Inwardly I feel like a wasteland, especially when I think mayb he wasn't worried at all but relieved, but I push the feeling aside and focus on the warm cheese melting into the bread and the company beside me.

When we're finished I offer to help him further but he declines. "The only thing I have to do is unpack my paintings. I have a studio upstairs. When it's set up feel free to come by anytime."

"Thanks, I will." We grin at each other, finally feeling like friends and comrades. I leave smiling, feeling loose and for the first time in days not controlled by some emotional strain.

It is early afternoon and though I have little pocket money I decide to wander around the square, taking in the various shops. Though there are no vendors some shops have opened patios and booths outside so despite the crowds pushing against me and the oddly bird-coloured citizens, the square almost resembles the Hob. With the relaxations I feel is some nostalgia and homesickness but I distract myself by looking around for any vegetable stalls and come across a booth of greens being sold by an young woman with vivid purple hair curling around her face and blue eyeliner. She smiles in a friendly way. "Looking for something?"

I smile and shake my head. Gale and I don't need food just yet; it's only good to know where to buy them from when we do.

"Do you know where I can get fresh game?" I ask. The woman only furrows her brow in confusion.

"Fresh meat?" I amend. She smiles, understanding and points a painted finger across the square.

"Dirov will sell it to you. It's pretty expensive if you buy it from him but it's the best there is. He gets it straight from the farther districts." She doesn't suspect that I may be from one of those districts.

"Thank you."

I make my way across the square to where she was pointing and I see a table of pelts next to a take of slabs of meat rolled in plastic. She was right; the meat is good. It isn't the meat I'm used too, where every part is cut out of the animal and savored, but it is still good. The man selling them is younger than I expected, around Cinna's age but taller and pale with strikingly blue-black hair and circular blue tattoos traveling up his neck. He eyes me as I make my way to him and sneers in an unfriendly fashion but I had been trading at the Hob for years and I find his expression does little intimidate me.

I point to a slab of what looks like rabbit, something that would earn me a good loaf of bread or a couple of bowls of Greasy Sae's soup in the Hob. "How much is the carcass?" I ask firmly.

He looks down then back up at me, changing his sneer to a genuine smile. "A pretty penny." He's teasing me. "Or," he leans forward, "a kiss."

I back up, slightly shocked, but I stand my ground and shake my head. "Not going to happen." I work hard to fight the urge to turn on my heel and I keep my gaze on the rabbit. "How much?"

He folds his arms and his smile widens. "You don't strike me as the kind to walk around with a bloody hunk of dead animal." He's trying to disgust me, expecting to squeal, but I hold his gaze. He obviously thinks I'm a ditz and I laugh inside about how wrong he's going to realize he is.

"It shouldn't be that expensive. The hunter must have sawed off a third of the meat," I say and am rewarded a flash of surprise crossing his face but he masks it with a sneer again.

"It'll do you fine. Doesn't look like you eat a lot of it anyway." So he thinks I'm a silly Capitol girl who tries to be thin as opposed to a citizen used to fighting for food. Anyone could make that mistake. But it isn't anyone that's bothering me, it's him. I decide arguing won't get me anywhere. If he chooses to raise his prices for me alone he could. I hold out a hand and he looks at it suspiciously.

"Katniss," I supply.

His eye narrow, I'm not sure if he recognizes me but as he takes my hand and sake it he doesn't seem to.

"Dirov Owin, pleased to meet you."

"Are you always in the square?" I ask.

"Day and night," he says without explanation, though I know the square is closed in the night.

I've run out of things to say so I look over the rest of his meat. It is all good and well preserved. I wonder where he gets it. Though District 12 is surrounded by forest I know it would be a far place to trade with. And besides, nobody but me hunts there. Hunted there. I wonder what other district has access to the woods and how many people hunt. Looking around the square I can see few places with meat that hasn't been farmed. There must be few suppliers of hunted meat.

Looking up I meet Dirov's gaze but keep my face stony.

"Thanks," I say and walk away. Gale and I are fine for meat and I'd rather come back when Dirov is too busy to leer at me.

I avoid stalls where men and women marvel at shiny objects that couldn't be less interesting to me. To my surprise I see a store displaying shining knives, bows and arrows in the window. Through the door I can see guns, tridents, spears and other weapons inside. The sign on the door informs me that the store deals in merchandise from the games. Replicas of weapons the victors and losers have used. I recognize the trident now, it looks like the one Finnick used in the Quarter Quell.

I turn from the shop as quickly as possible, not wanting to see a replica of the bow I used in the games, of any weapon that I had once used. The joy I had felt when I left Peeta has dissolved, replaced by sickness at what I just saw. I take small comfort that nobody was in the shop, just the owner, lonely amongst the instruments of death.

I cross the square swiftly and interest myself in a bookstore. We never read in District 12, there was no time or reason and even schoolbooks had to be shared and treated like treasure. Through the window I can see a girl, around twelve years old, stuffing at least six books into a slim bag on her hip. She hands over a large sum of money and exits with a huge smile on her face.

I enter cautiously, receiving a grin from the shop owner, which I return nervously. The silence here is the hushed sound of people trying to be quiet as they travel through the aisles of books.

I don't remember ever reading a book that interested me more than the one filled with plants for gathering. In school the Capitol gave us books of our history, filtered the way they wanted us to see them. Now before me I see volumes of fiction, stories for children and adults. I pick up one and flip it open, reading the first few lines before shutting it again. I pick up another book, dark green and without looking at the title I open it, seeing it explaining the culture of each district. It is interesting at first but I can see it was a Capitol written book, supplied and edited by minions of the Capitol.

A tap on my shoulder almost causes my to drop it as I jump. I turn to see the man who was behind the counter. Like the bookstore, filled with pages and wooden shelves, he does not fit in with the grey and silvers of the square. His skin is natural and wrinkled, his eyes deep brown and his hair pale white. He smiles. "Looking for something particular?" His voice is deep and I find myself trusting it.

"No, I don' know what I like." I realize how stupid this sounds and blush. He doesn't seem to notice, only nods.

"How about a story?" he reaches past me for a turquoise coloured book. "Nice to get away sometimes." I'm not sure what he means but I accept the book and glance at the title. It is silver and in a curing script, reading the name _Eleanor_. "A simple story," he is saying and I snap back to attention. "A heroic girl, lots of tragedy but a good ending."

I open it, feeling the spine creak and I flip the pages and glance over the first page. I close it and nod, following the man to the counter and digging out my pocket change.

When I leave the book, smiling over my shoulder at the man, then at the book I feel better again. The sun is beginning to dip behind the buildings and I realize I'm exhausted. Waking up early and riding emotional ups and downs has tired me out so I wander around, letting my eyes barely take in the children being led away by their parents, the few teenagers who crowd around tables of clothing or in the doorways of some restaurants and the adults who mull around still haggling with vendors.

Finally I decide to go home. As I walk I feel dread clench in my chest. I'm not sure I want to see Gale but I pull myself up and decide to face it. He probably doesn't want to see me but we live together. Then I remember my doubts about him being there again when I return and find myself walking faster.

The bottom windows of the house are lit when I come to the door and walk in. Gale is sitting in the living room, boxes around him and their contents arranged around the room. He looks up when I walk in and his eyes widen. I set my book down and come into the living room. For a moment we look at each other and I'm not sure what I feel. His expression is of unveiled surprise. My chest feels heavy but I'm filled with relief that he's still here. His hair is still wet and I smell something herbal on his skin.

"Where were you?" he asks finally, leaning back to relax but I can see he is still clenching the muscles in his arms. I sit at the other end of the couch, giving him space and consider telling him about seeing Peeta.

"I went to the square," I say finally.

He can tell I'm holding back but he doesn't pry. I'm sure he's coming to the Peeta conclusion on his own so I continue. "I helped Peeta unpack, then I found a place to by meat from this guy called Dirov, then-" I stop, because Gale's face changed at the mention of Dirov. His eyes hardened, his jaw muscle twitched and his mouth turned into a thin line. "What?"

"Dirov is…" he shakes his head. "Nevermind. Just be careful around him."

I watch him, mystified. "Then I went and got a book," is all I can say. His reaction to Dirov startled me but maybe he met Dirov when he came to District 2 earlier. "What did you do?" I turn my face away. But I can still feel him shrug beside me.

"Nothing. Unpacked."

I nod. We sit in the living room for several minutes and I miss the outside noises, wanting to get up and open a window but restraining myself. Gale makes a gesture I catch out the corner of my eye and I turn to him.

"How's your mouth?" he asks.

I blush and run my tongue over it. The pain went away so quickly I almost forgot it was there but I wince as I push aside some torn skin. "Fine," I lie. Gale has the decency not to raise an eyebrow at my obvious lie. "Do we have dinner?" I ask.

He doesn't respond at first, then nods. "I made some squirrel, but we don't have much else."

I get up and check the kitchen. I find a great lack of any greens and we are down to the last crust of our bread. All we have is the cooked squirrel and another rabbit from District 12. "I'll go buy some stuff tomorrow." Neither of us mention what will happen when we run out of money. We haven't had that talk yet and it seems like we wont for a while.

Not that I'm a great cook at the best of times but Gale is even worse than me. The squirrel is sticking to the pan, the meat charred as I pry it off with a spatula. I don't notice him coming up behind me until the toe of his book hits the side of my foot. I whirl around, spatula raised like weapon out of surprise. He looks almost amused as I set it and the pan down. Then his face settles and he looks at me seriously.

"Peeta came to see me today."

My jaw drops. That is the last thing I thought would come from his mouth. He is watching me, obviously waiting for a response. "What happened?" I croak out.

"He told me to let you off the hook," he says seriously. I have a hard time drawing a breathe, too much shock is running through my system. I am watching Gale to see how he might have reacted to Peeta but all I find is anger. Anger at me? For what? Confiding in Peeta? For Peeta coming to talk to him? Does he think I told Peeta to come talk to him? I glare back at him, feeling anger rise in me like fire.

"So?"

"He says I'm being harsh and there's nothing going on between you two."

"That part's true," I mumble casting my gaze downward. All of a sudden I don't want to have this talk.

Gale is silent then he does the last thing I expect him to do. He puts and hand on my waist and pulls me forward until I'm less than an inch from his chest. His hair obscures his eyes so I cannot see his expression but I hear his words tickle my ear. "I get it."

I'm confused, not sure what he gets but when he lowers his lips to mine I forget. Hunger ignites in me too fast to think and I push, trying to deepen the kiss, but he pulls back. "Did you kiss Peeta like that?" he asks lowly.

I feel like he's slapped me in the face. Accusing me of sharing the same kiss with Peeta that I do with him. I feel my hand has raised itself and I jerk it down, forcing it to my side. "No," I hiss venomously. "I didn't kiss him exactly the same way I kiss you, happy?"

I pull myself away from him and stalk toward the door but Gale has already closed his hand around my forearm and though it doesn't hurt I know there will be bruises there tomorrow. He pulls me back but not to him. His face not shows blatant confusion. "I thought we were done this. I thought that you had finally chosen me. That you were done going back and forth."

I shake my head, not to agree that I wasn't done choosing but because I don't want to stand here and listen to this. "Let go," I growl. Instead he tightens his grip.

"How is it different when you tell me you love me from when you tell him how much he matters? How is any of it different? You go to him for comfort, you did today."

"Because I couldn't go to you," I splutter, taken aback by his accusation because I would have thought that was obvious. "You would barely speak to me."

He sighs and finally lets go but I don't leave. He runs his hand through his hair. "I know and I'm sorry Catnip." His shoulders fall but mine are hunched in defense. "I didn't know what to say."

"If you don't know what to say then maybe… Maybe we shouldn't say anything." I'm not sure where I'm going with this but Gale raises his head, his face white.

"Are you… are you leaving?" his voice sounds smaller but still leaves me shocked with his words.

"Of course not. I just meant… I just… I'm not leaving." I say firmly.

"And you're not breaking up with me?" Gale asks, moving closer.

I don't move. It's so strange to hear Gale ask that, as odd as it was to hear Gale call me his girlfriend since it wasn't a label I had even considered during the games and the rebellion. The words are just foreign but I still know how to respond to them. I can't meet his gaze.

"No. Are you?"

I have to look up when he doesn't answer and I see him shaking his head. He is now inches from me and reaches out tentatively to take my hand. "I know you're just friends. He says I'm lucky to have you and not to mess it up." Gale grins at me, for the first time since I told him about the kiss and as relief washes through me I grin up at him widely. "Like I messed up dinner."

I laugh loudly but keep my eyes on him. "Let me do the cooking in future. Or at least teach you," I say.

"Sure. We're good?"

I nod. Gale and I are fine. We're more than fine. He bends down and brushes his lips across my neck, causing a shiver to run down my spine. Then he really kisses me. I pull myself as close to him as I can, pressing down hard on his lips, letting him know how much I missed him when he wouldn't speak to me or touch me. His mouth opens hungrily and he tangles his fingers in my hair, running his other hands up and down my side. He wraps a leg around me so we are entwined.

He breaks away from the kiss and leans down to kiss the spot just below my ear. "Are you going to… make me… chase you again?" he asks between kisses.

I laugh and bunch my hands in his shirt. "No, you're stuck with me." It's the best feeling to be back in his arms but as I melt into them he pulls away, drawing my warmth with him. He smiles and backs toward the stairs.

"Catch me," he supplies simply before bolting up the stairs. Confused it takes me a moment to follow him and he is already halfway up the stairs when I take my first step.

I sprint after him, like I'm being chased by fire though I already feel it blazing inside of me. He laughs as I follow him down the hall and into his room where he waits next to the bed. I grab him and spin around, pulling him over me as we collapse onto his mattress. I let myself be pulled into his fierce embrace and don't let him go. Then we give into our hungers.


	5. Chapter 5

When I wake up the bed is cold beside me. I feel for Gale's familiar warmth and only find the empty sheets. I rollover to his pillow but there is only a faint indent where his head lay. A noise downstairs alerts me he is in the kitchen. I close my eyes and remember last night. Gale's kisses are never strange to me anymore but last night was different. I hadn't ever been kissed that way, in that place. If his touches got any more demanding I'm not sure I could survive them.

I wonder briefly if Gale will come upstairs to get me but I don't stay in bed long. The house is warm enough that I can slip into one of Gale's shirts and descend the stairs.

Gale is in the kitchen, barefoot in pants and a t-shirt, his hair sticking up. I run my hand over my hair and am relieved it is relatively behaving before he looks up.

He seems to take me in, his gaze traveling up from my feet to my face where my cheeks blaze.

"Morning," he said when his eyes reached mine.

"Morning," I nod and move past him, conscious of his eyes trained on me while I slip a spatula under the squirrel we still haven't eaten. We'll have to see Peeta today for some bread. I don't mention Peeta though; the quiet around us is all ours.

My thoughts are distracted when Gale pushes aside my hair and plants a light kiss on my nape. Instinctively I lean back on him and his hands brush my waist. His lips graze my shoulders. I inhale quickly, feeling his teeth on the collar of my shirt, pulling it aside to fall over one shoulder. His hands are wrapping around my middle now, burning wherever they touch. He bites the skin on my collarbone, craning his neck over mine. I shift slightly, moving my hips to the centre of his and leaning back further until he's forced to reach down and pick up my legs. Hastily I pull the shirt down and turn red when I hear Gale's throaty chuckle. Before I can say anything though his lips are on mine again, trembling with force.

I pull him closer and kiss him until I feel light headed, until the decision is to either let go or pass out. I've drawn half a breath when he brings me back. We make our way to the living room where he lays me on the couch, then pulls away for the briefest moment in which I close my eyes, letting the pleasure of his touches wash over me. When I open them again his shirt is discarded, his bare abdomen against mine, his jeans scratching my naked legs.

"Katniss," he moans slightly, just below my ear, then just above my collarbone. I'm finding it difficult to breathe but I pull him back for another kiss, then concentrate on his hands, inching their way under my shirt as his lips trail down my neck.

Our chests are heaving now, lips moving in synchronization, clutching each other and pulling each other closer, as if we weren't already crushing our bodies together, tangling our arms and legs.

He is tangling his fingers in my hair, grabbing handfuls and tilting my face to get even closer.

"Remember," I breathe while he kisses my eyelids. "You have me." I tangle my fingers in his hair; pulling him so closely I'm sure it must be hurting him. He manages to lower his head to my stomach and brush his lips across my hipbone. He follows down the side of my legs; half planting kisses, half stroking the skin with his hand. His thumb finds it's way to my undergarment when his lips reach mine again, after I've been rendered breathless.

"Imagine we're on pine needles," he grins and I remember our forest in District 12. I don't know why he would bring it up but I kiss him again, still confused. "It's where I first wanted to kiss you," he murmurs, before sucking on my pulse point. "They'd get stuck in your hair," he laughs. If I had any air I'd laugh but I don't.

He wanted to kiss me in the woods, the only place I smiled. I don't know what spurs the next words out of my mouth but they are in his ear before I can stop them. "The woods, not the slag heap?"

He stops kissing me immediately, his body tensed. His hands slowly come to rest on my shoulders, as though he needs to hold himself up. He looks confused, his cheeks red, his breathing ragged like mine. I can feel it on my face as he whispers "What?"

"Where you kissed girls," I say uncertainly. "The slag heap." I don't know why I brought it up but I remember the first time he told me of it, as clearly as he remembers the first time he wanted to kiss me. But I was not the first girl he kissed and knowing that had made me feel like a fool. Was I so malicious that I subconsciously wanted to hurt him for that? _No_, I think. _I don't want to hurt him, I just want_… but I couldn't answer that. "I'm sorry," I say, tearing my gaze away from him, wanting to get up but stuck under his hips, which are straddling my waist.

"Katniss," I hear his voice, low and filled with something else I cannot discern, maybe anger but I don't hear his usual fire in it. I feel his hands on my face. "Katniss, look at me."

I do and I see Gale, strong and beautiful and somehow mine, above me and holding me and about to explain something. I shift uncomfortably but he doesn't move, keeping his hands on either side of my face.

"Catnip. Kissing you behind the slag heap would be…" he shakes his head. "Not right. I kissed too many girls behind there and they didn't mean anything compared to the idea of kissing you in the forest."

"Even if it was like kissing a drunk person?" _Be quiet_, I silently urge myself but my mouth refuses to listen. I cast my gaze downward again and away.

"What? No. Kissing you isn't like that at all. It's like…" he trails off and lets go of my face. I put my hands on his knees, trying to push myself up but he grips on of my arms and leans down so his eyes are wide open, and inch from mine. "It's like being on fire," he says against my mouth and the feel is so intoxicating I lean in to taste it.

He's right. I feel my lips burn as we fall deeper and deeper into each other.

Gale and I finally sit down to talk about how we'll make a living. I've been avoiding the topic so long I don't know how to start but luckily Gale provides some guidance.

"I don't have my old job but I know some people here who might be able to get me a new one," he says.

"What can I do?" I ask. I have no connections and my skills are confined to hunting and survival. Gale runs a hand through his hair, thinking.

"You could model," he jokes but I grimace, thinking of the models I've already seen on posters and screens around District 2, how strange and inhuman they look.

"Could your friends get me a job?" I ask. A strange look comes over Gale and though I can't tell what it means I know he isn't considering my suggestion.

"Probably not. And you probably wouldn't want it if they did," he says finally.

"But you would?" He nods and drops the subject. I try another approach.

"Why don't I just walk around the square, see if there's anywhere I could be useful?" Immediately the image of the weapons shop comes to the forefront of my mind. I push it away and try not to let my distaste show on my face, I try to control the shivers. Gale seems lost in his own world and nods absently.

Suddenly He leans over and nudges me. "Go get some more bread from Peeta," he says. I furrow my brow.

"Do you want to come?"

He looks as if he's about to shake his head but decides he does. I realize I'm excited to see the square with Gale who probably knows all about it. Or at least, what it was like when he lived here. Months ago. Maybe I'll be able to meet some people, or at least know how to deal with them. He can teach me the way my father did. It's a strange thought but I'm excited anyway.

Gale and I go to change, getting our clothes from our separate rooms and meeting downstairs by the door. It's strange not to share a room but I've already spent one night in Gale's bed, and the night in my own didn't feel right. It's just a place to store clothes; Gale's bedroom is where I want to be. I glance over and see him grinning as I tie up my boots. It's where he wants me to be.

The walk to the square is shorter, with Gale leading uncertainly. He holds my hand in his and the gesture, though unfamiliar, is comforting. It's the middle of the day and people are gathered around in hoards. When Gale bends down and whispers I'm hurting him I realize I've been holding his hand so tightly my nails have been digging into the back of his. I'm unaccustomed to the crowds and nervous about getting swept away but I ease my grip on his fingers.

We walk around and Gale points out the finer details, occasionally waving to someone and telling me who they are. Once or twice he waves to girls, pretty girls who blush and wave enthusiastically back, pointedly avoiding looking my way. I loosen my hand when Gale waves but he just squeezes back more tightly.

He leads me past Dirov's stall and to a café where he points to the menu of coffees and drinks I didn't know existed. Before I can stop him he has bought me one, a mocha, with the bitterness of coffee but the creamy sweetness of chocolate. I give him a few sips but begin swallowing it down quickly. Gale laughs. "It isn't going anywhere Catnip."

Like at the Hob, there are secrets of who to trade with. Who is the hardest bargain and who has the best to offer. Thankfully, we glide silently past the store of weaponry and he doesn't glance its way.

It isn't how I remember walking the Hob with my father but Gale and I talk about what we see and who reminds us of who from home. Occasionally we come up with nothing to say but I'm comfortable listening to the crowds around us, hearing pieces of conversations. Gale and I are comfortable in silence, we always have been, thanks to the peace of the forest.

We come to Peeta's bakery and I open the door, slipping inside and tugging Gale after me. We stand in line but I catch Peeta's eye and smile a hello and he smiles back. Gale is still holding my hand but his grip has loosened, the way mine did when I saw those girls. I squeeze it reassuringly but truthfully I feel uncertain. I don't want either of them to mention their talk or the fight, or for Gale to get jealous. A small spiteful part of me enjoys that Gale is jealous of Peeta but I push it down and gently lean my head on Gale's shoulder while we wait. I feel the tension his shoulders dissipate slightly.

Peeta finishes with his last customer and turns to us. Thankfully there isn't any pain in his expression, just contentment and I sigh with relief.

"Hi Katniss, Gale."

Gale nods back but I choose to ignore his wordlessness, since his eyes aren't dark or cold and he hasn't resorted to keeping his hands on me. I still clutch his hand though and turn my attention to the bread. We have enough for a hearty one, maybe two.

"What does that loaf have in it?" I ask, pointing to one with small brown dots I believe are raisins but Peeta surprises me.

"Chocolate chip," he answers. "With orange glaze."

I blink and recognize the shiny russet surface of the loaf. I remember an orange from a while ago and the delicious tangy taste. Suddenly I want the loaf.

It must show on my face because Peeta is pulling it off its rack and shoving it in a plastic bag, then tying it up.

"Thank you, I say when he hands it over. We exchange money and our fingers brush and Gale's grip tightens the smallest bit but I pretend not to notice.

"No problem. Do you guys want some cheese buns? They should be done by now, freshly baked." He's looking at Gale as he says this, obviously trying to make conversation with him, to be friendly.

Gale blinks, startled. "Sure."

Peeta turns quickly and goes into the back room.

"That was nice of him," I say absently, but a jolt of heat brings me back. Gale has rested a hand on my waist under my shirt.

"Gale," I hiss at him. He smiles sheepishly but doesn't move his hand.

"Chocolate orange bread, sounds good," he murmurs into my hair, bending to kiss my head and placate me though my cheeks are blazing red since we're in the middle of the bakery. Someone is standing a few metres away, gazing at rolls, but I know she can hear us and it's making her and I uncomfortable.

"Have you had chocolate before?" I ask to distract myself from his hand, which is stroking my side, passing over my hip and my ribs.

"No," he admits. "Is it good?"

I nod and duck my head. His fingers are tickling the skin on my topmost rib and my cheeks are burning. Strangely my senses sharpen, and I can smell something very much like chocolate. I peer around and notice behind the counter a bowl or something smooth and brown. I lean forward to smell it and smile, lifting it up and bringing it over the counter.

"This is chocolate," I hold it up for Gale to smell. He sniffs it and raises his eyebrows.

"How does it taste?"

I can't describe it so I push the bowl out to him. "Try it," I tease him. He focuses on me, his face serious, eyes shadowed. I pause; holding my breath, and what happens next is too fast for me to stop.

Gale reaches forward and tips the bowl with his finger, causing a stream of melted chocolate to run down my shirt and over my neck. The warmth and stickiness makes me gasp as I push away from him and right the bowl, quickly placing it on the counter.

I glare at him, furious as I look for something wipe it up, but Gale is barely holding back laughs.

The woman looking over the rolls quickly makes a move for the door. If Peeta wasn't getting us cheese buns I would be following her.

I make to lunge at Gale, my fury scarlet and blazing before my eyes. Rationality has taken second place as I feel the chocolate dripping into my shirt. Before I can grab Gale however, he grabs me.

The muscles stand out on his arms as he holds my wrists and backs me against the counter to stop my body from writhing. I grit my teeth at his amused expression as he leans in and… I stop breathing.

He's biting my neck, nipping it as he licks the chocolate off, probably leaving brown smears. I want to push him off but something warm is twisting in my stomach, sending shivers through my limbs, keeping me immobile as his lips travel to my collarbone, still licking the chocolate away.

I don't notice I'm holding my breath until Gale laughs softly, his hot breathe against my neck. "Are you mad at me?" I think I catch his words. But before I can answer I hear footsteps and somehow manage to press my hands flat against Gale's chest a force him a metre away. I look down at my shirt in despair as Peeta walks in, another bag in his hand, steam fogging the plastic. He stops short at the sight of my and bowl next to me on the counter, dripping chocolate off the edges. He looks puzzled by the brown smudges decorating my chest and the only comfort I can take is that Gale has turned his grinning face toward the shop window, his back to Peeta.

"Katniss… what happened?" He asks haltingly, gently putting the buns down and moving the chocolate away. He doesn't sound angry, despite my having wasted whatever the chocolate cost. I shoot a glare at Gale before turning back.

"Do you have a towel?" I feel guilty asking him for one, and even more guilty when he nods quickly and disappears to get one.

I turn my anger to Gale. Despite what I felt while Gale got rid of the chocolate I'm mortified that Peeta almost caught us. Gale seems to be pleased with himself. "What do you think I am? Some piece of meat you can grab at any time?"

He is still snickering and I have to control the urge to slap him. Part of me feels hurt but I'm determined not to show it. I can't help wondering if Gale treated his other girlfriends like this. If part of what Gale loves is that he can show me off. _Not much to show off_, I think in the back of my mind.

"I enjoyed it," he says, moving his hands toward me but I back away. Gale still doesn't see how serious I am but my anger only increases the bigger his smile gets.

I turn around before a tear pricks my eye and I let out air in a huff when Peeta appears again with a towel and a shirt. He holds them out to me.

I take the towel and begin to wipe.

"You can change in the studio," he motions up the stairs. He turns to Gale, the look in his blue eyes unreadable. "You can wait or follow her."

"No," I snap and Peeta's eyes flicker to mine, surprised. Under different circumstances I would have appreciated Peeta's attempt to make Gale feel welcome but I'm still holding back tears and I all but flee up the stairs.

I burst into the studio and shut the door, louder than I mean to. I let out a shaky breathe and tilt my head up before too many tears fall. I still can't help the ones that do, that make my hair stick to my face as I wipe away the chocolate, leaving brown stains on the towel. To make myself feel better I drag a finger over my skin and lick the chocolate off. It tastes good but it takes a while for my silent sobs to subside. I don't fully understand why I'm so emotional, so upset, but I wish Gale would take me serious.

I wish Gale didn't have a past. _No, that isn't right_, I think. It would be unrealistic to expect Gale not to have had relationships. I know girls looked at him. I know he's kissed girls. Suddenly I wonder if he was a virgin before me. He seems to know what he's doing when we… I close my eyes and try to let this question fade away into the dark behind my eyelids. Gale was with other girls, I don't know how, but maybe he's tried this with other girls… Maybe he tries the same thing with every girl…

I stand up and put the shirt on and for the first time get a look at Peeta's studio. It seems like he never got rid of any paintings, that or he's been painting since we arrived, only days ago. Some of them are still of me but some are of District 12. The meadow, the Hob, a dandelion… Peeta must be nostalgic.

There are also many pictures of sunsets, too realistic and vibrant to be the ones we've seen in the coal filled skies of District 12. I wonder where he got the images from when a blinding light answers my question.

A rosy glow fills the room and I edge my way to the window, noticing for the first time the way the easel is positioned beside it. Through the window is a perfect view to the square, across the top of one of the shortest buildings of the square, short enough to see the sun at a perfect angle between the tall rows of building beyond. It hovers on the horizon, setting and casting canyons of vivid colours across the clouds. I see rosy gold, pinks and peachy oranges fading in and out around the glowing orb.

"Oh," I say softly, watching it's mesmerizing glow. It's a rare sight in District 12. One I never took the time to watch. In the forest or in the games. I remember the beach Peeta and I sat at on the Quarter Quell. Peeta should be an artist, if only to capture moments like these on his canvases.

I'm still lost in the sight when Peeta's voice drifts upstairs. "Katniss?" he calls. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I call back, tearing my eyes away and going to where I dropped the towel. I hope my eyes aren't too puffy.

I take one last look at the sunset before going back downstairs.

I avoid Gale's touch as we leave the bakery. The sunset and Peeta' studio calmed me down and I was able to give Peeta a genuine smile when I returned his towel and promised to bring him back his shirt but following Gale outside I remembered the chocolate incident.

The buns and the loaf are in my bag, along with my ruined shirt. As we left I dimly heard Gale promise me another one but I don't want to hear it.

I can feel his hand on my arm but I jerk away and refuse to look at him. I hate that he made me cry. So much for being strong. In a show of defiance I march across the square, thought I can hear Gale yelling behind me.

The square is getting darker and some stores are already closing. Lights are appearing in those staying open later and almost all stalls are closing. I make my way to the one I best recognize. Dirov greets me with a sneer.

"Hey Katty," he says. I bite back an insult, hating his nickname for me.

"Hello Dirov. Anything good today?" Though I have no intention of buying, but Dirov annoys me and I need an excuse to be angry.

"Deer, if you believe it," he gestures to a huge hunk of meet I had been eyeing. One I could afford with savings. Or other hunt if I had any. No such luck in the urban District 2.

I poke at the meat. It is a tender slab; it would cook well. If I was a good cook.

Dirov's hand slaps mine away. "No touching it unless you're buying it sweet cheeks."

I bristle. This is an even worse nickname. "How much?"

He grins. No, not grins, that's too pleasant a name for it. "A kiss would do it."

I lean back quickly. "What?" I stammer out.

"A kiss. A good one, Katniss. You're a rebel, right? Make it feisty."

You're a rebel? Does he recognize me? I could almost laugh at his suggestion if I wasn't so mad. Before I can retort Gale is beside me.

"Whatever it is, she's not interested," he growls. Dirov turns to him with the same predatory smile.

"Gale, welcome back. We missed you."

We? I turn to Gale, letting my curiosity overpower my scorn, but only for a moment. Gale ignores my questioning look; he is focused on glaring at Dirov, his eyes getting darker each second. I'm not getting any response from Gale so I turn back to Dirov.

"Name another price," I say firmly.

Dirov shakes his head, turning his full attention back to me. "I don't bargain. If you don't have a pretty penny to spend sweet cheeks maybe you'd better learn to make one. You'd do well in the market."

"Market?" I ask but I'm unable to ask anything more because Gale has stepped almost perfectly in front of me, his body trembling with rage. Hist fists are curled so tightly at his sides the knuckles are white and I'm gratefully his face is turned away from me. I've seen Gale at his darkest moments and his fierceness is enough to make me instinctively take a step back. Dirov doesn't seen to have the same primal urges though. He stays where he is, lazily switching his gaze to Gale.

"She's your girl?" he asks, sounding amused.

"She's not involved," Gale says.

"Everyone's involved." Dirov sounds less friendly now, his voice has lost its humour.

I haven't noticed until now how dark it is. The sky is black, few lights are visible, as if the whole of District 2 has gone to sleep. Almost everyone is gone, the square holds only a few citizens. Strange how they all move, slipping in and amongst the shadows. As I watch them a few seem to turn, angling toward Dirov's table. Some of them have begun crossing the square, coming toward us. Without meaning to I take a step closer to Gale and touch his elbow.

"Let's go Katniss," Gale turns and begins to lead me away but a shadow detaches itself from a nearby wall and stands in the way. He doesn't say anything but Gale bristles at the sight.

"Let them pass, they're with me and mine," Dirov calls but the man doesn't move.

Some of the figures are moving move swiftly across the square, one has already reached Dirov's table. He pulls out a wadge of cash and lays it down.

"I need a quick fix," he says in a gravely voice but Dirov doesn't notice him, his eyes are fixed on the shadow before us.

"Did you hear me? I want a fix," the man at the table argues. He has curling and spiking grey tattoos up his left bicep. His face is hollow but his uscles bulge as he glares at Dirov, moving aggressively forward.

"Take it easy, you are yours aren't welcome until they're gone," Dirov points at us. Gale is still silent, and watching the man ahead of us. As I've been listening to Dirov and Grey Tatoos speak Gale has moved in front of me, a wall between me and the shadow man.

"They aren't welcome in our ways. Dirov, you owe me. Make the sale now and they pass."

Dirov glares at the man but his eyes flicker to us. He sighs heavily and reaches under the table bringing out a heavy black case. I shift, trying to get a better view of it but I only see the glint of glass as he opens it, removes something and snaps it shut. He passes it to Grey Tattoos but he doesn't back down.

"Where's the rest? This isn't worth my money."

Dirov stands taller. "This is worth more. Move it and let them pass."

More people have joined us. Some have similar grey tattoos to the man hassling Dirov. The rest are watching the men with grey tattoos, a force ready to interfere.

"Gale…" I murmur but Gale doesn't say anything. Instead he takes my wrist and pulls me closer to him, crushing my front against his back.

"Let us pass. We're with Dirov," his voice is hard and I can only tell it's his by the way it reverberates through his body. I can only hear the voices around me, guessing at whom they belong to, because all I can see is the back of Gale's shirt in my face. I can also hear people coming closer.

"No. We're willing to make a deal with you Gale, but you aren't under Dirov's protection." I don't recognize this voice but it sounds as if it's coming from the man before Gale.

"Not happening," that's Gale, growling. Footsteps are coming closer and suddenly Gale shifts, throwing me to the side. Not before someone grips my arm like iron, wrenching me away. I feel my body hit the ground; my head cracks on the concrete and the world shifts before my eyes. When my vision comes back everything is a blur around me. Dirov's table has been overturned. Men with grey tattoos are tackling other men while Gale… Gale.

He's standing in a crowd, some are grey tattooed men, fighting along side him, but he's grappling wildly, forcing his way through them, toward me. I'm dimly aware he's calling my name.

"Katniss!"

I push myself to my knees then stand quickly. More men are swarming the square, some women too. Someone comes at me, too obscured by darkness to recognize their face but as they pull out a long serrated knife I know to duck away, just out of their reach, and crouch down, reaching with my leg for theirs and pushing them off balance.

"Katniss!"

I turn to Gale's voice. He is closer to the edge of the crowd but something happens that makes them disperse. Even in the dim light of faraway illuminated windows I can see something long and metal in the hand of more than a few of the fighters.

Someone pushes my head down and I scream, twisting and kicking at whoever it is.

"Katniss, stay down. Gale will get you out of here," I don't recognize this voice but their hands are still pushing on my head as the first shot rings out.

Several shots follow and already two bodies litter the ground. Fighters are taking refuge behind the railings of shops, in the coves and alleyways between them.

"Go," urges whoever is forcing me down and pushes me toward an alley way. Gale is there and I lurch toward him, throwing my arms up in a hopeless attempt to ward off bullets. Adrenaline and fear are twisting in me, writhing and making my nerves go crazy. I'm almost there, a few more steps and I'll be out of open range… Not before the world gets lit on fire.

I'm thrown, that's the only way I can describe it. Senses come back one at a time. First smell. I smell gas, sulfur, burning flesh and wood. Then hearing. I hear a few screams from women, drowned out by cries from men like "Get away," and "Back to our side!" Something is crackling and there are the sounds of heavy objects falling, glass shattering. Then feeling. The heat is unbearable and I flash back briefly to the fire in the games, all over me. I bat uselessly around me, though no flames engulf me. Even the rough stone ground beneath me is hot. Something wet is on me and as I run my hands over myself, searching for any obvious pain, I gasp as I graze over bruises and cuts. Then vision comes. I know it before I even open my eyes, the flaming red and orange is burning in the skin of my eyelids before I open them.

Fire is everywhere, twisting in colours that hurt to watch, that dance and twist and roar, rising higher and higher until they block my view of the district's high rises. Smoke covers the sky like a blanket, smothering it and descending around me in grey. There are more bodies and people rushing to get away. Something is forcing its way through the flames.

"Katniss!" Gale.

I try to call to him but when I open my mouth all that goes in is smoke and all that comes out are huge hacking coughs as the pain ruptures my throat and makes me tear. I try again and when I begin to almost heave I stop. I weakly slap the ground with my hand, as though that will make enough sound to draw him to me.

Somehow, miraculously, in this fire, Gale is here. He pauses when he sees me, whispers something too vague to catch, then his hands are under me, lifting me in his arms and carrying me away. The joints in my body scream and every pain is amplified. It's barely enough to bite back a smoky scream.

Gale is slick with sweat but my skin is also covered in it and I feel myself occasionally slipping as Gale brings me farther away from the heat. I bounce in an agonizing rhythym away from the square, letting my head roll as I take in the route home.

Gale's hair is plastered to his face, his cheeks red. A cut runs up his cheek and arm, welts are forming on his other arm. He is lurching, evidence his leg has been hurt. His eyes are wide, frantic, almost.

Darness creeps in at the edges of my vision when I feel the first drop. It is cool and plesant, soft. Another one falls, then another, until a steady downpour has begun. It is cooling and only makes me want to sleep further. Exhaustion is dragging me down into sleep, cradling my head in Gale's arm I could close my eyes and drift off…

"Katniss, wake up!"

I open my eyes with effort to see Gale's pleading face. We are at the apartment. He opens the door, balancing my bottom half on his knee for what looks like a harsh second, before forcing his key in the lock and pushing inside. He drops the key on the floor and leans against the door until it clicks closed. He pushes on the light switch with his shoulder and walks me straight to the bathroom.

He gently rests my feet on the ground and straightens my body, holding me uncertainly. For a moment the world is upright, then the bathroom sways and he grabs me before I plummet.

"Catnip…" Gale turns on the tap of the bathtub, testing the water and stripping off my top as he does. I want to stop him, some deluded part of my brain is angry with him for something to do with chocolate, but that seems like a lifetime ago so I give in. I watch him reach for the knobs of the tub and as I do I feel the smoke rolling in my stomach and by the time Gale has turned back to me I've emptied my meals for the day into the toilet. I'm dry heaving as he pats my back hurriedly, his movements shaky and sharp as though he can't stop his hands from shaking.

"Come on Catnip, come on."

He lifts me and places me in the tub, with my shirt and undergarments on. The tub is full of icy water, pure and clear until I touch it and dirt and blood tint it an ugly reddish brown. I wrestle against Gale's grip, the cold is biting and all I want right now is to be left alone.

"No Katniss, just stay here," he says through gritted teeth, fighting me.

The fight is gone from me, my muscles are too tired. I let him lower me fully into the tub, drizzle water over my hair and face and scrub my arms and legs. His breathing is ragged and sometimes he coughs. I imagine puffs of smoke coming from his mouth and could almost giggle at that. I must be giddy… how could I imagine laughing right now?

The water is warmer now, but still cool. It moves around my limbs like soft wind, relaxing them. I could float here for a long time. It's like being on a light bed, on a mattress that doesn't cave in when you lie on it. A new bed with soft blankets and a welcoming pillow…

"Katniss, wake up, please!"

Gale's voice brings me back but as soon as it does I'm slipping again, the edges going black and I don't resist. I hear him calling, my name, trying to keep me awake but I fall deeper and deeper until nothing can penetrate my sleep, not even Gale.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm in the woods. It's the end of summer, one last blast of heat with the occasional cool breeze indicating autumn will be here soon. The leaves are mostly plump and green but a few yellow tinted ones edge the trees. Moss and pine needles alternate across the forest floor, gnarled monstrous roots weaving in and out of patches of them. Midday sun is pouring through the leaves, tinting twigs and bark with pale yellow.

I stand; my muscles creak as though I've been crouching for hours. My skin is covered with a few familiar scars from years of hunting. I'm wearing my father's jacket and my leather soled boots. I feel the pressure around my shoulders lighten as I breathe in the fresh air. I can't help smiling. The woods are the only place I ever smile, my friend Gale always tells me.

I move my foot slightly and a movement in the corner of my eye makes me turn swiftly toward it and I raise the bow and arrow in my hand instinctively. I did not realize I had them until now.

The movement was a deer. It is russet coloured, white dappling its face around it's liquid black eyes. In the forest it looks pristine and beautiful but out of place, I haven't ever seen a deer in these woods. One has never passed District 12.

Its pelt would fetch a good price and the meat would keep my family going to a week, at least. Despite how innocent it looks, it would be much more useful to me dead than alive.

The deer is frozen, watching my poised bow. My fingers shake slightly on the string as I take closer aim, looking straight at its neck. The deer is as still and silent as a statue, not even bothering to run from death. For a moment I catch its eyes but I can see now expression, not even fear, in them. I cannot smell it and the way it stands does not disturb any plants. When a light breeze rustles the plants around it, the hair on the deer does not move.

I let the arrow fly. It seems to move slowly, piercing the air and causing ripples as it passes the forest scenery, slicing a path through the sunlight toward the deer. My arms are still raised as it pierces the deer's neck, toppling the creature over. Its carcass makes a thud on the ground and only when I see a pool of red growing under its body do I move toward it, picking my way through overgrowth.

The deer has fallen forward, its front feet trapped under its torso. It's head points forward, shaping its body behind it like an arrow.

My arrow is stuck in its neck and when I grasp the shaft and yank it out blood splatters across my pants and boots. The deer is dead though, I don't feel sadness for its pain. It was worth killing it. For Prim and Mother.

I haul the carcass up but it's too heavy for me to carry very far on my own. I stop for a rest and estimate how long it will take to bring the deer back. Perhaps Gale could help me. I wonder why he isn't here; we hunt every Sunday.

I close my eyes as I rest, confidant any sound of an approaching predator will for them open again. I'm slumped against a tree and for a while everything is peaceful. It is quiet, warm and a musky scent surrounds me, enveloping me like a blanket. A blanket so warm and sweet, it would be so easy to let my heavy eye lids stay closed, forget the Capitol, the reaping, everything…

I wake up and immediately wish I hadn't. Pain steals into every joint, every muscle, leaking into my head and piercing it with a shrieking sound. Through the haze of pain I'm aware of sheets beneath my fingers, a pillow beneath my head and soft light in my eyelids. Before I can stop myself I open my eyes.

The first thing I see is blank white, the white of the ceiling. If I shift my gaze to the right a dark piece of fabric is pulled over the window, blocing out all but the harshest light, though it is muted.

I shift my gaze again, downward this time where blankets are pulled over my chest, many of them. The edges of my vision are fuzzy but I see the objects in front of me with painful clarity. My chest is half covered by the blanket, but I'm wearing a black shirt. Something is beneath it, causing uneven patterns in the way the shirt lays.

I momentarily try to work out what happened and glimpses of red come back to me, flashes of smoke and yelling. I push the thoughts away; they make my stomach roil with fear and nausea.

"Gale," I try to say but my throat is raw, parched and I haven't used it in a while it seems. I swallow, trying to wet it before I call his name again. My voice comes out scratchy and hushed. He could barely hear me if I was in the room. There is no response outside the door. No other noise in the house.

Panic seizes me, suddenly and from nowhere. The shock in my brain is so intense I don't realize what's going on but scenarios pour through my mind. Gale leaving, Gale being hurt. Maybe I'm alone in the house. Maybe I'm meant to die here. The fear makes my skin buzz and throws me over the edge. I can hear some horrible noise, like a dyeing siren, and realize it's coming from my own mouth. I rock on the bed, calling for help.

Air rushes past me and I feel the slap of bricks on my body. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming but a muffled groan still escapes me. The pain is unbearable. Blood flows openly from my mouth as I crack my eyes open. My cheek rests on the floor, facing the wall, away from the bed.

I want more than anything for the pain to be over. If I had morphling I'd gladly slip into the haze of pain meds. It doesn't matter what I'd remember, almost anything is better than this pain.

"Katniss?" The voice is so soft it takes a moment to register and by the time I recognize my name footsteps are already closing in on me, knees bending down beside me.

"Katniss, what are you doing? What happened?" Hands run over me, making me wince. Then they're lifting me and I bite at the ragged flesh in my mouth again. More blood chokes me and I spit it out of my mouth.

"Katniss, breathe. Can you hear me? Breathe," Gale is panicking but he's put me back on the bed. I don't remember falling off but now I'm on it I want to stay squarely in the middle.

I open my eyes and Gale's face hovers fuzzily above mine. His eyes are wide orbs of grey, his expression one of worry. A bruise makes his right eye swell and a cut runs from his jaw to his ear across his cheek. His skin is so pale and the circles under his eyes stand out like smudges of charcoal.

"Gale," I breathe, the word caught in my throat.

"Katniss, don't move," he begins speaking rapidly. "You aren't alright. The explosion knocked you down. Don't try to sit up. Are you thirsty? I've got some pain medicine." As he speaks his hands move over my skin, then lift my shirt up and touch the uneven bandages over my side and wrapping around my ribs.

"Pain…" I murmur. His eyes shadow but he picks up a small blue tablet and gently slips his hand under my neck. I feel blood rolling down my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut as he pries open my lips and slips the tablet onto my tongue. Next comes the water. My voice is so dry it feels glued together and the water makes it way down uneasily. I cough and splutter but the coolness in my throat is like relief.

"Thank you."

Gale puts the glass down and strokes my hair away. I tilt my head until I'm facing him. "What happened?" The words are out too quickly and I wish I could take them back. I don't want to know right now.

Gale swallows, his face uncertain. "There was a fight. They brought out the guns but something got set off under Dirov's table. He deals in things like that… bombs and bullets. You got hit. There was glass in your side. You're bruised; your rib broke. You lost a lot of blood."

Each word sounds false but the pain is too real. So is Gale's expression. It's almost anguish to see, how he's been worrying about me. Has he been losing sleep? He is obviously not healthy, with the bruises and cuts I can see. I grope blindly with my fingers though each movement sends tremors down my arm. Eventually my hand finds Gale's and grips it tightly.

"Just let me sleep, I'll be fine Gale. Don't worry. Get some sleep."

He doesn't move though, just leans closer. He places a gentle kiss on my forehead and I feel warmer.

"You'll get better Catnip. Then I'll explain it to you."

I nod, then stop before the pain makes me black out. A wall is between Gale and I, there is something he hasn't told me. He hasn't explained it all to me but I believe he'll be here when I get better.

I let my eyes close and when Gale rubs his thumb over my knuckles I don't respond, just let my mind drift elsewhere. I want to be back in the woods. I wonder vaguely if it's possible to return to a dream, specifically the one of the woods. _There will be more to hunt_, I think and almost smile.

The days pass. I don't know how many of them but they are the same. I wake up for a while. If the pain is extreme Gale is there to give me a pill. Sometimes there is broth, sometimes water. Gale gets better, his bruises heal, his cuts close up.

I'm healing too. My skin is smoother. I can sit up in bed, the part of my side where glass pierced it is painful but the real annoyance is the dull ache that comes from moving my rib.

Now all I am is restless. Gale keeps coming with quiet words and pills but I want to know what happened. When I ask though he stays silent. Eventually I get fed up.

I wake in the late afternoon. "Gale," I call down the hall.

He comes in, wearing a clean shirt and pants. In his hand are the blue tablets I used to love, but now, with almost no pain left, I hate the haze they cast over my mind. The ghost of a bruise is under his eyes but he shows almost no sign of the explosion that left me bedridden.

"You must feel better if you can yell that loud Catnip," he says grinning.

I smile. "I want to try something."

"Oh?" Gale sucks in a breath, a little too deeply, and coughs. The smoke from the fire affected him more deeply than it did me. I was hurt bodily, lying on the ground until the smoke settled over me. He kept my face pressed close to his shirt when he ran with me, keeping the smoke out of my lungs. He got the worst of it though but he didn't waste a minute when we got home, taking care of me first, cleaning my and cooling down the burns on my arms and legs. It still catches up with him when he exerts himself or takes a breath too deeply. If I were able to get up right now I would soothe him but he stands a few metres away, coughing until he settles down. Then he refuses to meet my gaze and I don't mention it.

"I want to walk."

Gale immediately looks disapproving but to my surprise he doesn't argue. He comes closer, brushes a kiss across my temple and places an arm around my shoulders, lifting me from the bed.

It seems like ages since my feet have touched the floor and it's wonderful that I don't collapse onto it the moment I take a step. Each one sends tiny shots of pins and needles up my leg but I can stand without swaying. I walk around the room and the urge to go running down the hall and the stairs is overwhelming.

Before Gale can stop me I make my wway to bathroom, then stop when I see my face.

I look almost as bad as I did when I came out of the games. My hair is a matted mess, my face is gaunt and my eyes are wide. Bruises cover my arms and a scratch runs down my neck. My lips are dry and cracked and when I glance at my nails they are cracked and grey. Before the shock can take place I turn away from the mirror.

"Gale?"

He is standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame, watching me carefully with crossed arms.

"How long was I in bed?" I almost don't want to know the answer, especially since he takes me in his arms before he answers.

"Nine days Catnip."

I don't say anything; just fit my neck under his chin and breath in his woodsy smell.

"You alright?" he asks. It's pure instinct that I kiss him in answer. He deserves words but he doesn't want them. Not like he wants my kiss. He pulls me out of the bathroom and to the bed, running his hands carefully up and down my sides while I tangle my fingers in his hair. Every kiss we share is deep and tender but we take short breaths before crashing our lips together again. He slips an arm around my waist as he lowers my head to the pillow and pushes himself up on his elbow, balancing over me, close enough to feel his chest on mine.

As we kiss, running our fingers close to the hems of each others shirts, I can feel him pulling away more often. The need for air breaking apart our kisses. His chest heaves faster and his neck muscles strain. Still, he keeps kissing me. When I hear his voice rasp instead of hitch, I put a hand on his chest and push him gently.

"Gale," I say to stop him.

He slows down his kisses but it takes a moment for him to realize I'm not bestowing any kisses on him. He watches me, confused. "Are you in pain?"

I shake my head and blush. "Don't outdo yourself. Take a deep breath."

He quickly climbs off of me, but not fast enough that I didn't see the anger streak his face.

"Gale," I say but he's turned away.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"It isn't your fault. Just… take it easy."

He moves to the bed, taking a place on the sheets. Having been out for days I've missed his touch, his intimate movements. I lay my head in his lap, watching his face from below him. He tilts his head over me, pressing his lips to my forehead and tickling my face with his bangs. We stay like that a while, talking lowly, avoiding any mention of the explosion. I want desperately to know what it was about, but Gale is here, holding me. He twirls my hair around his fingers, combing gently through the tangles. I rub my knuckles over his arms, pausing every now and then at his biceps.

When speech fails us we lie there. Gale's expression says he is impatient and I move my head away but he pulls me back, resting his hand on my stomach and slipping the other under my neck.

"So…" he begins in one of our moments of silence. "Why were you angry at me earlier?"

I blink, clueless. "What?"

"Before the...," he gestures at my ribs. "Before that, you were angry with me. At Peeta's."

I remember that I was. I recall the chocolate incident that seems so long ago. I blush and turn my gaze away, annoyed that even now I am so shy with Gale. "You were being… affectionate. In public."

"That made you uncomfortable?" His eyebrows rise. I know we've kissed before in public but it didn't bother me until he began teasing me, making me squirm. Gale shakes his head. "It's more than that. What was wrong Catnip?"

This time I turn my head, shaking it slightly so my hair falls in my face and I don't have to look at his probing eyes. "You made me feel… You made me feel. And you're so… good at it." I can feel myself going redder with each word. This isn't coming out the way I wanted it to. "You know how to kiss me and, and you've done this before. I… haven't."

It's Gale's experience that bothered me. He knows how to kiss me, how to be intimate, as he has before. It isn't that I feel inexperienced, naïve. Gale is patient; he shows me how to be with him. Each time we're together he kisses me or touches me in a new way and I learn more. But he's been with girls who know more. Girls who know how to make him feel good. Maybe he misses that. I feel almost competitive, wanting to show him what I know. Which is nothing.

Gale is silent for a long time and I want to crawl away, inside some place black. I can feel him shaking.

I push myself up onto my arms, ignoring the stabs of pain going through them. I keep my back turned to him. "Nevermind." But as I turn away he grabs me and holds me to his chest. The shaking is becoming stronger and suddenly I worry he can't breathe or he's choking on smoke.

When I turn to him though his face is red, his mouth in a tight line and his grey eyes wide and shining. He's holding in laughter and at my concerned face he lets it out.

"Catnip," he says between laughs as I fight desperately to get out of his grip but he crushes me to his chest and only seems more amused. Only when a tear falls down my cheek does he seem to calm down and let me go. I quickly pull myself to the opposite side of the bed and face the wall, trying to take a deep steadying breath.

I can't see Gale and I don't want to. I hope he can feel my anger in waves coming off of my skin.

Something grazes my arm, Gale's fingers, but I flinch away.

"Catnip," his voice is soft, like he's speaking to a wounded animal.

I tilt my head up, willing the tears to stay in my eyes. I take another deep breath and hold it.

"I'm sorry Katniss," he says and this time he keeps his distance. "That was stupid."

I want to laugh, he's so oblivious, but there's still pain in my chest. I bring my arms closer to my body and place my hands in my lap, ignoring the twitching in my fingers that happens when I sit still. It's the twitching for an escape, for my bow or a rope to knot, the familiar things that make me feel safe.

"Really?" My voice is choked and has barely any sarcasm in it but I swallow to free my next words. "Forget it."

I don't want this talk. Gale and I keep having the same problem. And it's my fault. Why can I not trust him? I tell myself over and over, he won't leave me. Not like Mother or Prim, not that they had a choice.

His fingers touch me again, resting lightly on the crook of my elbow. I let him tug me around but I don't meet his eyes.

"Just look at me," he says forcefully. Now my own anger rises. He's demanding me and getting angry when I haven't done anything. I would say anything to shut him up.

"I forgive you, all right?" I say and pull away but he grips me hard then pulls my chin up to look me in the eye. His eyes blaze.

"No you don't. Why can't you just accept that I don't care about that? Don't you trust me at all?"

"Of course I do, but I trusted Finnick and he died! I trusted Mother and she left," I cry, my cheeks feel on fire and my muscles strain as I shout.

"I'm not like that!" He shouts back then pushes me onto the bed. "Calm down, you're going to make your stomach bleed again."

I don't struggle against his grip. "I won't."

Gale doesn't move his hands, they are pinning my shoulders down and I cast my eyes over his shoulder, letting him go blurry at the edge of my vision. I focus on my breathing, slowing it and my heart rate down. Right now I'm tired and hungry and shouting will do nothing but make me thirsty.

Finally Gale releases me but he stays on the bed. "I don't care about that Catnip. You make me feel, like no one else has. I like that you're like this. I don't expect you to be… mature. I don't want it. You don't have to prove anything to me. I'll ask next time before I do something like that in public. But if it helps, right now I'd love to be kissing you and knowing I can't is really hard."

Up until that last part the knot in my stomach had been easing. Suddenly it tightens again. Gale wants to kiss me? Now? With my hair in knots and my body deformed by bruises? I prop myself up on my elbows, warmth forming in my stomach. "Really?"

Gale won't look at me and he sounds nervous when he replies. "Yes."

I reach out and tentatively rub his arm, circling his muscles, then dragging my fingers over his shoulder I hear his breath hitch a small bit.

"Katniss," he starts but I feel something new forcing me up, telling me to keep going. I push myself up further and lean into his shoulder, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up and kissing the softly skin there. I place another kiss carefully at the base of his neck.

"Really?" I repeat. But the instinct I'm following right now doesn't let me spare too much breath on speaking.

"Yes. Yes, I want you to kiss me." His voice is breathy and the sound of it thrills me. The word kiss sounds so intoxicating that I lean in to taste it. Briefly. I pull back after a second, letting my uneven breath hover on his lips.

"More," he says and his voice is rougher than I could have imagined. I oblige him, deepening the kiss until I feel his tongue running over the seam of my lips. I open them and give him a taste, letting him make a circle of my mouth, before I pull away, keeping my fingers in his hair.

"More what?" I let him hear the desire in my own voice; it's only fair. Not that I care about fairness right now.

"More you," he says, grasping at my hair, pulling me closer, reaching with his lips for mine but I keep my chin tilted down, my forehead pressed to his so he can taste my breath but not lips. "More everything. Please Katniss."

It's the please that I love. It sends adrenaline coursing through me. It stirs my stomach. My nerves go crazy with electricity. The please makes me want to give him everything, but I hang back, wanting to hear it again.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him to me and letting him run kisses down my neck. I lower my arms around his shoulders, running my fingernails over his back. I let out a shaky breath; I can't stop him from feeling what he's doing to me right now. His eyes widen when he sees the effect he has on me. I let my hands move slowly then, capturing his lips in a searing close-mouthed kiss, slowing down. Gale keeps trying to move quickly but I want to tease him.

"Katniss," Gale groans, placing his hands on my waist and pulling me into his lap. I can feel he's unwilling to let go, that it's urgent we continue. I'm almost done teasing him.

"Breathe Gale," I remind him and kiss his jaw, tickling the skin right below the hem of his shirt. His hands are bunching in the fabric of mine and I can hear a tear by the shoulder but I'm focused on his breathing. As much as I love teasing him I don't want to start something he can't handle.

"I don't want to," he murmurs. His hands slow on me and he catches my eye. "So you know, you don't need to try."

I lower my gaze to his chest where it rises unevenly with each breath. "I don't feel like I have to try with you. I just want to. I know what else I want to do," I glance back up at him under my eyelashes and he smirks, the Gale I always knew.

"Are you trying to… Don't stop," he whispers behind my ear, kissing the spot where my skin is warmest.

I pull away from him, missing his warmth for the smallest moment until I pull him up with me. He looks completely clueless and I have to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing. I put a hand over his eyes and lead with my other hand to the bathroom.

"Keep your eyes closed," I tell him. He swallows but stays blind while I turn on the tap. I have no idea what I'm doing but every thread of my being it pulling me, urging me to go on.

I turn the shower on and wait for steam to fog up the mirror. I pull Gale close and turn him around, while he rests his hands on my hips.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" he asks.

"Nope. Keep them shut."

I push him, gently but abruptly over the threshold into the hot jet of water in the shower. Gale gasps and it is hard for him to keep his eyes closed as the shower soaks him, turning his pants a darker shade of black, making his shirt cling to his bruised body. Droplets of water roll down his jaw and off the tips of his hair.

I follow him and close the shower door.

"Open," I say softly, so quietly I don't think he's heard me at first. But he opens his eyes and watches my lips come down on his. When I break away he is blinking the water out of his eyes, looking down at my body where my clothes cling to me. My shirt had come up just enough for him to slip a hand under it and pass it over my stomach.

"What now?" I ask, because my instinct can only come so far. I don't mind asking him for help now, not now that I've seen how I surprised him.

Gale moves fast, faster than I can see. He spins me around and traps me between the wall and his body. The cool tiles make me gasp but the warmth of the water and Gale's body softens it. He slides my shirt up and off my body then follows with his own, letting them both drop into a wet pile over the drain and the water begins to build. He sucks the water off my shining skin.

"Now we just…" but I've already pulled him back to my lips.

I want to leave the house. The city is alluring in the sunlight and the heat and noise makes me think of a simple time in District 12 when Father was around. I want to go to the square, then discover the rest of the district with Gale as my guide.

I'm fine now, there is now pain in my ribs or side and Gale can run up and down the stairs without coughing.

There's still the explosion though. In the dark night, when the lights of the district have dimmed and Gale's breathing is even in his sleep I can almost hear the earsplitting bomb that cracked the square. I haven't seen the square, heard any news of how the explosion was responded to. Gale hasn't mentioned the incident. I don't know if it's because he would prefer not to talk about it or if he's waiting for me to speak. Either way, I've got to say something.

"Gale," I begin one afternoon as he makes dinner with a simple recipe of Mother's I taught him yesterday. Gale has been out for food, or he's had friends drop it off for us, promising to pay them back. Before the games I wouldn't have been able to imagine a place where neighbours so easily gave up food with nothing in return. I have barely seen these friends and the few I have seem normal and give me a smile and a nod but stay for only a few minutes. "What was the explosion, what caused it?"

Gale stays on task, crumbling bread into the stew. He doesn't look up. "Explosives probably. Under Dirov's table. A bullet must have grazed them."

"I mean, why? What was that about?"

He puts the bread down but keeps his back to me and the kitchen is filled with suffocating silence.

"Dirov is part of a gang. They're called Spikes. They sort of split the district with another gang. They're called Mutts." I shiver, hating that word. "They have rules about territories, different clubs and underground places where they run operations. To avoid fights. They have some citizens under their protection, people who aren't involved, like family members. They have special merchandise; some of them even trade. But they've never been on good terms. We aren't under either's protection but if we were, you'd want it to be the Spikes'. Dirov was trying to help us out that day, telling them we were under his protection. Citizens don't usually stay in the square long after dark, that's when a lot of trade goes on. The underground is worse but it's also more secret. The Mutts weren't buying it so they attacked. Dirov probably too it as an insult and he's high up in the Spikes so the rest of them backed him up. They're really closely knit, they'll fight for one another like their blood relatives."

I'm silent and shocked throughout his entire explanation. My heartbeat is thundering in my ears as I listen to Gale describe the gangs. District 12 was too poor to have gangs; there wasn't enough time, energy or resources to have those kinds of fights. I wonder what the underground is but all of these thoughts take second place to the question I ask Gale next.

"How are you involved?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"The job I had, I helped with television production, for broadcasts for the Capitol. I did lights. It was a good job but I went to trade for the chemicals we use for special lighting, the chemicals that make it brighter or change colours. I found out some of the people in the company were trading for other things. Magnesium, and something called firefly aluminum. They were making special gunpowder. I was just their connection at first. Then they started getting me to give them rides places. They introduced me to some people… I didn't really notice I was with the Spikes until they gave me real jobs. I didn't hurt anyone, but the trades aren't legal. I worked mostly in the underground fight ring. Some of them like that, when the games weren't on it was how they got their kicks. They're other stuff too, stuff I don't agree with. But the Spikes aren't like that. Not like President Snow. That was the Mutts, they sold –sell people the way Snow sold Finnick.

"I didn't want to be a part of it. I wanted to come back. I left, I told them I wasn't ever part of their gang and I wouldn't be. Mutts wanted me to join them and they're still not pleased I said no. They know though that I'm not with the Spikes, that I'm free game. I could be a target." He takes a deep breath. "And so could you."

I spend the next few hours trying to get warmer. I've gone cold from the same shock I felt when I knew I was going to the Quarter Quell. Part of it is from the familiar haunting danger I'd thought I'd escaped at the end of the rebellion; the other part is from the realization that perhaps I don't know anything about Gale. I may be living with a stranger.

Here, in this new district, I don't have anyone to comfort me. Not Prim or Mother, and going to Peeta would possibly endanger him. As I sit in the shower waiting for the pounding water to either drown me or thaw the ice in my stomach I consider what to do.

I could live like the citizens. Don't got into the square after dark, steer clear of either gang, but how like is that when they are so determined to get to Gale? My first instinct is to run. Escape the district. If I could get Peeta to follow and guilt rises at the thought that he would, with little to no explanation.

My other thought is to stay and try to integrate into the Spikes. Enough to be protected. What would it take though, to get them to accept Gale again?

The questions whirl in my head, spinning until I'm dizzy enough to lean my head on the shower wall.

When the water begins to cool I get out, dry myself, and pull on my warmest clothing before I freeze again.

The only way to proceed is to talk to Gale. He's waiting patiently downstairs. After his explanation he gave me some distance, space that I graciously used to think.

I come down the stairs and Gale is waiting in the living room. In his hand is the book I bought a while ago that I have yet to read. His eyebrows are drawn together in a small frown, as though it confuses him.

"Gale," I say to get his attention.

He tears away from the book instantly and sets it down, smiling with nervousness I'm unused to seeing on his face. "I don't get that book, and I never figured you for a big reader Catnip."

I don't answer; just pull the door open. Gale is right behind me, following and locking the door.

He doesn't take my hand but he lets his fingertips brush against mine. I can't take his hand, not now when I feel so removed from him. His appearance is familiar, his voice and the way he moves. Even his heartbeat I can hear in my mind if I close my eyes. But I can't imagine him in a gang, trading bombs and standing by while people are sold like cattle.

"Where are we going?" Gale asks as I lead. I would have thought it was obvious.

"To the square. I want to see what it looks like." The destruction of store windows, the fragments of tile and building pieces must have caused a riot to shop owners and merchants who arrived the next day. I glance at Gale for an indication to his thoughts but his face stays impassive. Not helpful at all.

The square is not at all what I expected. The windows of each shop are flawless, perfect sparkling glass. Crowds swarm and buzz like bees over the stone ground. Dirov stands, selling his meat, his body in perfect condition, his venue with slabs of red and pink. It is almost impossible to imagine the place engulfed in flames and in ruin; if I hadn't seen it I wouldn't believe it, looking at it now.

"What happened?"

Gale's mouth is a hard line but the look in his eyes is weary. "They have a lot of power and everyone knows it. Everyone who doesn't want to get involved probably fixed their shops on their own. The rest they fixed, I guess. They couldn't just leave the square like that. Not that nobody noticed."

The gangs fixed the square, cleaned it up to appear in perfect condition. They are far more organized than I thought and I remember the underground.

"Tell me about the underground," I say, nudging him.

His lips become that hard line again. "It's not important Katniss. You don't need to know-"

"Tell me." I let the anger seep into my voice, pretending I'm not angry won't get me farther than letting him know I am.

Gale sighs then leads me to a café, the very place he bought me a mocha the first time we toured the square together. This time he orders something cooler. It is a glass of something sweet and bitter and pink. It's called grapefruit and I try to decide if it is more sweet or bitter as I drink it down.

If this were any other day, any other conversation, it would be ideal. Gale and I lounge on a patio in the midday sun, the light and heat warming our backs as happy and oblivious citizens roam around.

Instead the sun makes me squint and my grip is so tight on my glass I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. Gale is looking away, not making the slightest movement indicating a desire to sit closer to me. Even though I'd reject it I wish he would try.

"It's like a network. It isn't like the Hob with everything in one area. There are different branches of it throughout the district. Different people run different parts but it's pretty much no man's land for the gangs. They don't fight as long as they keep their hands of each other's merchandise. The fight rings are the closest they get to partnership. There are some areas big enough for arenas or markets but they're spread out and the best ways to get to them are either tunnels or some secret aboveground places. It can get scary. Mostly if you keep watch and have a weapon on you you're fine, you just have to know where you're going. But if you take a wrong turn you could be in one of the worst markets."

"Which are?" It's my first interjection and Gale looks thrown by it. He rubs the back of his neck.

"Some of them sell people. Girls, mostly. Some of them aren't by choice but the girls are kept… unaware. They're high on things like morphling."

This makes my stomach jolt because not too long ago I lived on morphling and the comfortable removed haze they provided. I mull over Gale's words, trying hard to keep the bile down at the thought of girls tied down, out of their minds while someone pays for them to… Gale must see my face because he puts a hand over mine.

"It's ok, we won't get involved. We'll stay far away and you'll never see the underground."

I shake my head. The wildest thought is that I'm unafraid of seeing the underground. If I had a guide, if I could find my way, I might be willing to risk it. To see the tunnels and the trade. I wonder how close it is to the illegal poaching and trading Gale and I did in District 12. If I could forget the horrors of what they're selling it would be easy to learn the trade secrets. Like forgetting the contestants of the games were people instead of animals.

"How do those girls get involved? The ones who don't have a choice?" I ask bitterly, looking directly into his eyes.

Gale removes his hand and turns his gaze away. "Usually someone they know is involved and they get involved too. Sometimes as a way to hurt someone they love, or some of them just wander into it without knowing." He meets my eyes again. "It's not going to happen Katniss." I know what he means to say, _It's not going to happen to you_. I can see him struggling to stay calm as he says it and that doesn't help the rising tide of fear I feel.

"Tell me about the fight rings."

Gale accepts my need to change the subject and leans back, running a finger around his glass while he speaks. "The smaller ones happen more often, in arenas underground. People place bets, there are a lot of big names and there are always new fighters. Some of the matches are easier, ways to start off, like practicing, even though a lot of them have trained for the matches for years. Those matches aren't to the death, or even that bad. The last one to have their blood drawn is the victor. Then there are the death matches and depending on whos fighting, they can last a long time. The biggest matches hardly ever happen. They're aboveground and they span days. It happens when someone arranges a match outside the district, in open land. It takes days because fighters hide and strategize and build alliances. Some of the better ones can even get free packages of resources from outside, if they're bet on enough and they're needed alive. It's like…" he doesn't finish the thought but I know what he was about to say. _It's like the Hunger Games_.

The patio has become chilly, despite the blaring sun and the extra clothes making me sweat.

"So what did you do?" I ask, looking away so he can't see me judging him, scared of him and the world he might belong to. The world that might too soon become the one I belong to.

Gale coughs. "Not much. I got things around, packages, and messages, that sort of thing. Sometimes I came along for trades. I never traded anyone though," he adds quickly.

I nodd, understanding and it takes all my will to resist biting my cheek. I finish the grapefruit in one gulp and feel hunger gnawing at my stomach. Lately my appetite hasn't been much but it's been coming back. The more I eat the more the space in my stomach will expand.

"Let's get something to eat. At Peeta's."

Gale pays for our drinks and we head down to Peeta' s bakery. I wonder what he made of the broken square.

All the time we walk over there I feel like ice everytime Gale touches me. He pulls my elbow gently to avoid my stepping into the street. He nudges my shoulder to get my attention and explain something about some shop we just passed. I nod, not really hearing it. There's an ache in my stomach I've come to connect with Gale, when I miss him. Even though he's right beside me, he's not with me.

We pass the store, the one I dread, with the weapons of former games. Something today catches my eye and makes me twist, almost bumping Gale into the wall.

"Catnip?" But his nickname cannot distract me now.

In the window of the store is a tall golden trident, shining. The golden trident Finnick Odair used to win the 65th Games. Immediately his face floats in my mind, his bronze hair and stunning green eyes. The satisfied smirk, the intense look before he struck, the surprisingly content yet exciting expression when he saw Annie. I realize with a jolt that today is his birthday. Today would have been his birthday. I'm dimly aware my hands have curled into fists at my side, my nails digging in to my palms. I'm fighting to hold back tears but they're tears of fury, rage at whoever owns this store. Whoever would be sick enough to keep this momentum in the window, as though that is all people should remember of Finnick.

"Katniss," Gale says softly and pulls my face by the chin so I'm not looking at the window. When he tilts my head up the tears trickle out of the corners of my eye, trailing down my face and whisps of hair gets stuck in the tracks. Still I meet his gaze, feeling redness and heat swirling in my head, my stomach clenching as I tremble in anger.

Gale pulls me to him, like I need comforting. I need calming though and after a moment I accept his attempts. He strokes my hair and murmurs in my each, resting his hand on my neck, then drawing my arms around him where I keep them stiffly. He slowly walks me away from the shop.

"I know," he says when he pulls back. "Please don't go near there. The guy who runs that, he trades with people outside the district. He has a lot of power in the underground." He lowers his voice. "I'm sorry about Finnick."

I move my head up and down, not trusting myself to open my mouth. Gale keeps an arm around me as we walk and while I don't relax into it I release my tension and force myself to un-ball my hands.

When we reach Peeta's the silence between us has become comfortable. We push inside and wait to see him.

The bakery has become messier, a sign that Peeta's been working hard. He must, all on his own. Even though he's been here a short time, I've heard snippets of conversation in the square of people recommending his baking.

His shop looks unharmed by the explosion. But so did all the others.

We come to the front of the line and meet Peeta. He smiles widely at us but I can still see blue smudges under his eyes, marks of exhaustion. "Hi Katniss, Gale. How are you?"

"Fine," I answer. "Do you have any cheese buns?" I'm praying they're back in the kitchen, that I can follow him there and ask him about the explosion in private. The odds are never in my favour though.

Except today.

"Sure," Peeta says and turns. "They're in the back."

"I'll help," I pounce on the opportunity, leaving Gale standing at the counter. Peeta looks surprised but he quickly masks his surprise behind a grin. He casts on back at Gale, an invitation to join us, but Gale hangs back.

We stand in the kitchen where the counters and table are smeared with flour and dirty utensils lie in a basin of opaque water. Apart form that the room is spotless. Only Peeta could use a kitchen this regularly and keep it so clean.

"How are you?" he asks. "I haven't seen you in a while." There's a note of weariness to his voice, and even his movements are sloppy. He hasn't been sleeping well.

"I'm fine. You? You look tired."

He flashes a grin, a smaller one and opens the oven door, letting out a wave of heat. I shiver.

"Peeta, have you… did you notice the square? A while ago? The way it was one morning?"

Peeta straightens up, a pan in his gloved hand, looking confused. He sets it down on the stove and the scent of cheese lifts to my nose. "No, what do you mean?"

"I mean…" I hesitate. I don't want to get Peeta involved but I should be honest. I decide half-truths are the best way to go. "I heard there was an explosion, a while ago. In the square. Did you come to it one morning and everything was… in ruins?"

Peeta watches me carefully, then shakes his head slowly. "No, nothing. The shop was fine. Everything was. Where did you hear that?"

"Nowhere," I answer weakly, turning my face down. If the explosion had never happened, if the gangs had made it look like it never happened, and some shop owners had helped, they had more power that I thought. To make it seem a fire had never burned the square, a bomb has never broke open the ground. The thought makes me shudder.

"You alright?" Peeta asks, his hand paused over the buns, a bag in the other.

"Cold," I smile shakily and help him slip a few buns into the bag. My stomach growls as I follow him back to the shop.

He rings up a price and Gale pays. I give Peeta a small hug before we leave, feeling guilty for my half-truth and guiltier that I even brought it up. Gale takes the buns and we leave.

I lean on Gale all the way home, first nibbling on a bun, then scarfing it down. He keeps an arm around me and takes an occasional bite of the bun when I offer it to him. I start on a second one and finish it a few metres from the house.

Despite only being out for an hour or two I feel exhausted. It's till mid afternoon but I pull the curtains closed, wanting the darkness of night, too impatient to wait.

I lie on the couch and open the book, _Eleanor_. The story is strange; it begins a long time ago, a time before the games, before even the districts, if there was such a time.

Gale slips onto the other end of the couch, pulling one of my legs onto his lap, placing the other behind him. He waist patiently while I read. I know he wants to talk about today but I don't, I'm still processing, so I continue reading. Still, I only get far enough to discover Eleanor is an orphan with three younger siblings before my mind begins to wander.

True the underground scares me; it fills me with blind fear and the thought of being in grungy black tunnels makes my heart pound and my pulse race. The idea of selling girls and illegal arms, and especially the idea of the fight rings, makes my mouth dry but somehow, despite all that, I'm… curious. I want to know what kind of people live this way, how they appear normal and how many of them are there.

Gale mentioned the owner of the weapon store traded with other districts, how far does this underground stuff travel? Could there be an underground in District 12? As far as I know the most black market trade that ever happened was at the Hob. Could it have run much deeper than that?

"Gale, does everyone in the underground… are they all like that? They carry weapons and pull them out to fight, randomly in the middle of the district?"

Gale shakes his head. "No, a lot of them are only half involved. They don't do much and they don't do it often. They just know about it and cover up for their friends and family. I didn't know much about it. Just enough to stay safe and out of the way."

"Out of the way," I repeat. The next thing leaves my mouth without my permission but in the silence that follows I know that the right answer will end my curiosity. It will bring me into a whole other world, with things happening, where I will have to fight for survival, which is all I have ever done. It will bring me back to where I started. And I can always let it go again, right?

"Gale, show me the underground."

Note:

I'm so excited. I actually have a plot forming in my mind right now. Don't worry, there will still be lots of Gale/Katniss romance. I miss Peeta though; have to find a way to work him in. I worked Finnick in because I just reread Catching Fire and I realized I miss him.

Anyway, even though the plot is progressing, I'm running out of ideas for Katniss/Gale fluff, any suggestions (and reviews) are welcome. Thanks.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm sharing Gale's bed. I have been for a while, since I felt better and since he felt the need to watch me wherever I am. I think he's checking to make sure I'm still here, even though he can see my thoughts drift to the underground when we talk. It's tiring him but he holds me close anyway.

Even though Gale's skin is tanned like gold and his hair a deep dark warm brown in the moonlight silver shines on his head like a crown and trickles over his skin, tinting it blue. I fell asleep long ago, still feeling his eyes on me as he held me close and facing him. When I woke he had fallen asleep. I'm watching him now, feeling his breath against my face, smelling the spiciness of his shirt as it clings to him.

He keeps his room colder than mine and to get warm I have to tangle my knees between his legs and pull my arms down to his chest, tucking my head in the crook of his neck. When I blink I feel him shiver against my eyelashes.

Gale refused to take me to the underground. There was a strange panic in his eyes when I asked, then when I asked why not, as though he expected me to go looking for it on my own. Which I wouldn't. Not even if I had a guide.

I push myself further into his chest, shuddering against the arctic temperatures of the room, until I feel him push me back and make a noise in his chest.

"Katniss?" he asks, my name sounding forced as his fist lazily comes between us, keeping distance. His eyes are still closed but he's beginning to stir.

"What?" My voice sounds quieter in the dark.

He blinks his eyes open, searching in the black for mine and finding them. "That hurt a little." But he's grinning.

I rub his chest where mine was and put a few inches between us. "Sorry. I'm cold."

Gale pulls me to him and draws the blanket into a cocoon, then draws his shirt up until more heat radiates from his chest. I blush and draw mine up to my ribs and feel even warmer.

"Go back to sleep," I tell him and brush my hand quickly over his cheek, hoping the caress doesn't feel rough or impatient. He catches my hand in his, entwines our fingers and brings it to rest against my cheek. My hand is cold in his warm one and I'm not sure if I'm cooling him down or he's heating me up. He rubs his thumb up and down my wrist.

"You first," he mutters sleepily. Then, more awake, he asks "Why are you awake?"

"I was thinking. Now I'm talking and telling you to go back to sleep. Do it."

He doesn't take the bait though, just watches my face. I try to remain impassive under his scrutinizing look. "Don't think about it Catnip. You shouldn't go there. You shouldn't want to. I don't want to get you involved."

"I won't get involved," I say, the same words I said earlier, in the evening. "I just want to see it."

"Why?"

There isn't an answer to that I can give him. I know the reason. It's more than curiosity. If there were anything I could do in the underground, train like I did at the Hob, maybe I could find a way to live. Live here, have things to do and a way to pay for the apartment. "Please?" I say hopefully.

Gale chuckles a little and leans forward. "I don't want anything to happen to you. No matter how polite you are."

When he says these things it still catches me off guard. I'm not used to blurting out my emotions but Gale seems to be getting more comfortable with his own. I want to reciprocate but not yet. I press on.

"Nothing will happen. You'll be there. You'll protect me," I'm trying for the right words, the ones he'll believe or like. I'm failing.

"If you got lost or drawn into something and I couldn't help-" he breaks off and I see emotions flit across his face, as though scenes are passing before his eyes. I try to pull him back to me and when his pupils find mine they are huge and black, swallowing up most of the grey irises. They stay that way while he speaks to me. "Just don't ask. I'll do whatever you ask but not that."

His thumb is now pressing into my vein like he's feeling for me pulse. I can hear it pounding in my head and the more I roll onto my stomach the more I can feel it in my whole body.

"Then I'll find some other way." Those words are like a knife dropping in the dark, hitting a nerve and causing Gale to sit up quickly, his hand wrenched from mine, his body suddenly a foot away, like he's been repelled. The look he gives me is horrified, frightened and a little disgusted.

"Katniss, don't say that! Don't say anything like that ever!" He isn't shouting but the force that comes out of his mouth with the words makes me flinch away instinctively. He doesn't realize how aggressive he looks, his face glaring, eyes flashing and chest forward and it takes more self-control than I'd like to stay where I am, let alone look him in the eyes. I haven't noticed it but my arms have wrapped themselves around my legs, resting on my kneecaps, with my shoulders hunched slightly. I force my body to relax, easing away across the bed to get as far away without actually getting off.

Gale does not relax and he makes no move to pull me back. But he does sigh and hang his head briefly, before looking up at me tiredly. "Just don't do something that stupid, alright?"

At any other moment I might feel insulted but he has a point. I do to. "Fine," is all I say and I lie with my back to him, not forbidding him from touching me but not welcoming it.

The bed creaks, then Gale's weight is off of it. The sound of shuffling feet, his weight sinking back into the bed and a second blanket placed on top of me. It's warm.

"Goodnight," he says, not sounding like he means it and the distance in his voice makes him sound miles away, though I know he's at the other end of the bed turned away from me.

I don't respond; just let the silence of two people pointedly not talking to each other send me off to sleep.

When I wake Gale is still asleep. I tread as softly as I can to my room to change before I go downstairs. Pale light filters through the front window. I want to slip outside, go see Dirov, ask him about the underground. Maybe if I can do it without mentioning Gale Dirov can guide me, and Gale will never have to know…

"Catnip?" Gale's voice drifts from upstairs, hesitant at first until he begins calling multiple times, increasing in desperation as he does. Then anger. I have moved out of view of the stairs and I hear him thundering down them before he stops and looks at me in the kitchen, chewing on a piece of chocolate orange loaf.

"Yes?" I hold the bread in the way of my mouth so he can't see all of my expression.

His is somewhere between relieved and annoyed. He doesn't want to fight today so he smiles. "Any left for me?" I can hear forced brightness in his tone and I play along.

"Of course. I wouldn't leave you with nothing, would I?"

He glances up, unsure of what I mean, then turns his attention back to the bread.

As he cuts his own slice I put my down and blow out a breath. We won't get anywhere edging around the topic this way. I put a hand on his shoulder and lean my cheek on it.

"Gale."

He tilts his head to me but that's all the recognition I get. "Just say yes. I won't go there without you, I can't. It would be stupid. But it could be fun, like running away together into the woods." I remind him of the proposition he made to me the day of the reaping, the day I volunteered.

He turns and looks directly at me, coming close enough to fill my vision with his face so I have nowhere to look but him. "No it isn't. That wasn't dangerous."

"Yes it was," I argue. "If we had been caught we'd have been killed. Our families too probably. It was the same with poaching. We were always in danger."

There, he'll have a hard time defending himself against that.

He shakes his head. "Nobody was forcing us to do that."

"Nobody is forcing us to do this."

"But if they wanted to they could. If they wanted me to do something they could get to me through you. That's not going to happen." He moves my hand off his shoulder and squeezes my fingers in his.

"Right, we won't let it. Because we'll be careful." I squeeze his hand back when I feel it slipping. He shakes his head, his eyes going hard with anger but I can't stop myself from pushing. "We're not idiots. I'm not an idiot. We'll be fine. I just want to see it, what do you think will happen?"

"What if someone recognizes me? Tries to do what the Mutts tried to do in the square? Down there they aren't as subtle with their guns," he finally pulls his hand away from mine and any emotional advantage I may have had over him is gone. I'll have to go with logic.

"They'll try that anyway Gale, they weren't being very inconspicuous in the square. Isn't it better that I see the underground, at least know more about what we might be dealing with?"

Gale looks away for a moment and I can see I've brought up a good point. He turns back to me, smoothing his expression out so it's unreadable. "You won't be dealing with anything. If they come near me I'll deal with it, you have nothing to do with it."

Hot anger rises and my vision flashes scarlet, roaring in my ears and my breath comes quick. "Don't be stupid Gale, of course it is! Don't try and fight them without me, it won't help you. And it really won't help me." He opens his mouth and gets out one loud syllable before I continue. "If they go through you, which they will if you stand up to them all on your own, then they'll be nobody to protect me. I could walk right into them and not even realize it."

Gale shuts his mouth, his chest heaving and shoulders breathing as he struggles to get control of his fury. I can't tell if he's mad at me for yelling or mad at himself for not being able to counter my argument. Either way he goes silent.

I turn back to the bread, tieing it up. Today would be a good day to count the savings, how much of it is left. Every penny I got for being a victor is almost gone. I remember giving it away, to rebuild District 12. I was so sure I'd still be able to survive. Strangely it seems easier in the poor old district than in this new one, where all my hunting and snaring skills are wasted. I try to imagine myself in a job here, preparing food or being on television or serving food or even, I force back a laugh, modeling. It all seems garish and unnecessary. And like something I can't do. Gale could get a job easily, but how would I find one?

"Catnip," Gale stands close but not touching me. His breath is on my shoulder, hot and slightly damp. His hands are kneading the fabric at the bottom of his shirt but I look at the bread, more interested in rolling it up neatly than hearing him refuse me again. "If I took you, would you be done with it? Would you leave it alone?"

I nod because I know he'll still say no and saying yes or no at this point doesn't matter for me, I don't have to be honest. The truth is I'm not sure it would be enough.

There is the longest silence I can remember in a long time, the silence filled with everything but human noise. It is short, less than a minute, but the time feels stretched. Gale is completely silent and if I close my eyes I can imagine he isn't there. I quickly open them again and keep him my peripheral vision. His face is watching mine the way he watches animals that are still alive in his snares, the ones he almost feels bad for killing.

"One night. I will take you there for one night Catnip. Then we're done." I blink. "One night," he repeats.

I gape at him for a moment. After all the arguments and nagging Gale has given in, which I hadn't thought was ever possible. One night, one night with Gale in the underground. If we schedule carefully I can see almost everything, every trade and game and if I watch I can learn enough. _Enough to what?_ I push that thought back to the recesses of my mind. I'll answer that question when I come to it.

One night; it isn't much, but I'll take it.

Before Gale can spill out his conditions and rules I close the space between us and kiss him hard on the lips, making him take a step back and hold onto me for balance. When I pull away he looks back and forth between my eyes.

"Was that a thank you for taking you or for doing what you wanted?"

"That was for listening to my argument and accepting it was the smarter choice," I say matter-of-factly.

His eyes narrow but he pulls me in for another kiss, pushing me back into the counter until I'm bending over backward, his hands on either side of me brace us both against the cold metal. His lips brush mine as he pulls away.

"More than one person will probably recognize you," he says huskily, panic edged in his voice. Then it is gone when he whispers below my ear "And a few will definitely proposition you."

My cheeks feel hot as I remember Peeta once called me pure, laughed at the way Johanna and Finnick teased me. I'm not so pure anymore, having been with Gale, but not everyone knows that and it doesn't mean I suddenly want people all over me.

"You'll have to get in their way," I say to him, then I let out a high pitched breathy sound when his teeth graze my collarbone and he rests a hand on my stomach. A cold hand.

When I wake up Gale is watching me silently, an uncomfortable look on his face, half questioning and half apprehensive. One hand holds up his head, his elbow propped on a pillow. The other is close to my hand, fingers brushing the tips of mine, but he doesn't take it.

I stretch and wait for him to greet me with a good morning or a kiss. He does neither and instead says, "Are we being careful?"

The question catches me off guard. "Careful how? What do you mean?" I place my thumb against his and draw a circle on his palm, feeling calluses and a scar.

"We don't use protection. What if you…" he doesn't finish the thought but his eyes flicker to my stomach and I pull away, feeling a little nauseated by the insinuation. It's a good question and it makes me squirm. I would be feeling anxious right now, panicking, if it weren't for District 13. In District 13 I got a shot to prevent pregnancy. I had seen someone else get it and when the doctors weren't looking I sneaked a syringe away. It lasted for at least half a year, the birth control. So far it had been four months. Gale and I still have another couple of months to go before we start worrying.

"In District 13, during the rebellion, I got a shot. It works for six months, I can't get pregnant." I don't look at him as I say it; instead I knead the sheets beneath our hands.

"Because of Peeta?" My head whips up. "Because you thought he and you would-"

"No!" I shake my head violently. Peeta and I had never been together that way. "No. Because of Finnick."

This doesn't have the desired effect on Gale. His eyes darken and his expression hardens. "Finnick?" His voice is low and vicious.

"Because of President Snow," I amend. "What he did to Finnick, the way he sold him. If Snow got to me… there couldn't even be a possibility of becoming pregnant."

Gale's expression smoothens into realization then turns to horror and I think for a moment he might be sick. "I was just wondering," he says and pulls me into a brief kiss. "Get dressed, we're going out."

I am already climbing out of bed, but I pause at the door. "Where?"

Gale shakes his head. "It's a surprise Catnip."

He won't give anymore away so I make my way to my room and open my drawers. I wonder what Gale has planned for us. I wonder how to dress, then catch myself wondering. I've never worried about my clothes before. I shrug it off and pull on black pants and a plain shirt, then braid my hair down my back. I quickly check in the mirror and see I look like myself. Katniss Everdeen.

Gale waits downstairs, in front of the door. He lifts his wrist to check the time as I slowly descend the stairs, watching him.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

Gale shakes his head and does a poor job of surpressing his grin. He opens the door for me and follows me outside, locking the apartment. I take a moment to let my eyes adjust to the sun, inobscured by clouds of coal dust. It reflects off every glass surface in the district and the effect at certain angles is almost blinding. It takes a moment for me to realize Gale is quiet, looking me up and down. There isn't any heat in his eyes; they stay clear as they reach mine. His gaze makes me unusually uncomfortable.

"What?"

He grins slightly, his mouth turning up at the corners. "It'll do fine today. But for tonight you may have to change."

I stiffen slightly, imagining what Gale may be planning. I remember the celebrations of the Capitol, how garishly everyone dressed, how much time I spent dressing up. I am lost without Cinna's help now, and even with Gale by my side I can hardly stand to think about those parties in which everyone throws up in order to eat more. I composed my face, slipping into my habbit of appearing emotionless, and tried to seem excited, for Gale's sake.

"You'de only seen this area of the district, right?" he asks me. I nod. Gale drapes an arm over my shoulders and steers me down the street and away from the square. "Here we have our own piece of the forest. It isn't anything like the woods but it's better than nothing."

I relax, remembering the sunlit woods, golden light streaming through the canopy of foliage. Game hiding in the underbrush, the exhiliration of the hunt but the quiet moments in which I could hear Gale's heart beating. The same way I can now, with his fingers tracing circles on my shoulder.

The area he leads me is different from the rest of the district. The buildings gradually shorten, the shops become less and less and the sounds of crowds and the train fade away. The houses become squatter and less polished. They are still a far cry from those of District 12 but they are familiar and comfortable.

Gale talks as he leads me down streets, pointing out where he met friends, places he visited when he first worked here, and telling stories.

When he steers me around the final bend I slip an arm around his waist to steady myself. My stomach has dropped. Gale was right. The woods are alive in the middle of the district. A patch of greenery embedded in the intricate filigree of the city.

Surrounded by a low metal fence are fields of trees. A path winds through them but smaller gnarled paths branch off, where people have obviously tread less. The trees are smaller than those of District 12, the ground less moss-covered and roots do not twist out of the ground on the path, as though they have been cleared away for citizens' convenience.

"It's called a park," Gale explains. "There's a pond in it, and a restaurant. We'll be going there for lunch."

I don't trust myself to answer right now; my mouth is closed tightly as I focus my breathing through my nose, taking in the light familiar scents. With Gale beside me and the only sounds the murmur of wind in the leaves and birds nesting high above I can almost imagine we are in District 12, hunting as we did every Sunday. I open my eyes again and most forward, my arm still around Gale's waist. This is home now. I don't deserve the good luck of bringing a piece of District 12 with me but somehow it is here.

"We'll also be meeting some of my friends at lunch," Gale says and my stomach lurches again. I direct a carefully calm smile at him and preoccupy myself with recognizing the ferns and flowers growing around us. We take the main path. I want to veer off into the deeper parts of the park but Gale checks the time on his watch and pulls me along, insisting we are on time to lunch. He must be able to read my face because he presses his lips to my temple and promises we'll come back.

"We'll explore it next time," he says when we pass a beautiful veiled area and my fingers on his side twitch.

Note (Very Important if you want the story to continue):

Firstly, sorry for not updating in a while, and I apologize for this chapter being short, but I've been catching up on work, etc. lately. Also, I've been planning out what the underground is like and where I want to go with the story. I've come up with a plot I'm happy with but I need to work out final details and new characters, etc. I have a few questions that are essential for continuing so please review and answer them or I may stop writing the story:

I still love Peeta, even though I paired Katniss with Gale (because I believe it should be that way), and I want to incorporate him. Any ideas on how or how much?

I'm running out of ideas for Gale/Katniss fluff. I want some more personal moments, then also some more intimate moments so anything sweet or hot, direct my way.

Any requests for old characters you want in the story?

Do you have issues with violence? There will probably be some.

This is because I've gotten a few questions about Katniss being pregnant. No she is not, she won't be. Currently she's only 17/18 (no idea).

Thank you a lot. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please review.


	8. Chapter 8

Gradually people begin coming into view. Some walking along the path ahead of us, coming our way, some coming from the more pronounced paths the veer away. I make room for them to walk by and try not feel jealous when I watch some of them disappear into the green glen light.

"We're coming up to it," Gale nods ahead. The path is winding around a corner but I can already seeing it becoming less narrow. Trees block my vision, a dense patch of them almost forms a wall ahead of us but where they part and separate a clearing comes into view.

It stretches as far as the meadow in District 12 does but unlike the meadow it is teaming with people. They crowd together, walking, talking, laughing and going in and out of the dome shaped restaurant in the centre. The meadow is lined with trees. The few flowers I do spot are not wildflowers, they wouldn't survive harsh conditions, and they must be well tended to. Even their idea of wildlife flora here is different, so carefully looked after and preened. Still, it is nice to see that there is a place of nature here. It almost feels like home.

The citizens are different too. Not the strange candy-coated manikins that walk the square, that have the lilt of the Capitol accent still and are usually attached to some devices, like portable phones or speakers or other cold metal paraphernalia. They resemble those people but they don't act like them, they walk almost carefree, slowly, and relaxed. They talk to each other, face to face and eye to eye.

The restaurant has a glass door edged with gilded silver twists that melt into the grey metal walls. It stands out in the clearing like a diamond in coal. There are rounded windows and beyond those I can see deep violet curtains but the light of the sun is making the interior too dim to properly view the indoor.

"It's expensive but Jennica offered to pay for us today," he shrugs as he pulls me along, but my steps are halting.

"Do they know about me?" I ask curiously and uncertainly.

His brow furrows. "They know who you are. Who doesn't? The Mockingjay? But they don't know you're my girlfriend."

There's that strange twist again at the word girlfriend. "Who's Jennica?"

He looks uncomfortable for a second, the feeling flashes across his face quickly but I catch it. "A friend. An ex, but we stayed friends."

_Like Peeta and I_, I think and I'm glad I'm feeling so reasonable. Not jealous at all.

"That's good. Who else will be there?"

Gale and I arrive at the restaurant. He pushes the door opens and motions for me to go inside. "I'll introduce you to them all."

I forget his words; almost forget his presence, when I cross the threshold. The restaurant is almost as big as the stage where the interviews for the games were held. Though we just stepped beneath a ceiling and into a walled room, it looks like anything but an enclosed space. The ceiling is transparent, everything on the other side as visible as if we were looking through glass. The sky is the same striking blue it is outside and I can even see the small streaks of cloud, like the rippled pattern waves make on sand. The domed room seems to cap the walls, which show an outside world, though not the clearing surrounding the restaurant. Instead they show an exotic forest, unlike any I have ever seen. It is clearly not like the ceiling, a reflection of what is outside. The walls are covered in moving images of tall trees with strange coloured barks and brown and red pods. Ferns larger than I have ever seen cover the floor and vines hang from random branches, sometimes falling and brushing huge multicoloured flowers open. Small droplets of sparkling water seem to drip off leaves and bark. Occasionally I can even see animals, lurking far away in the trees where everything fades to shades of green and brown dotted by more coloured flora. They are strange and alluring in the foliage. There is one that looks like a huge cat but his coat is silky and has a print on it, like golden stars on an amber sky. Something almost childlike hangs off one tree. Its body a rich orange, it's face laughing and I see its feet look like its hands. The actual tables are neutral dulled silvers, round with twisting and curling legs beneath them. Seated cushions sit around them and they are organized like a maze, some bigger and others smaller. Even the sounds of the room are exotic. There is the familiarity or people, conversations murmured, arguments being calmed, stories exchanged and laughs being shared, but there is also the sond of dripping water, like rain that has barely begun and is unsure. Some pools of water rippled when water droplets fall on them and they waver, sending out a rainbow across their surface before becoming smooth again. The animals make hushed noises too, the cat growls, the child-like thing makes a baby-like sound. When the trees sway their leaves sound real.

It's hard to look at the people in the restaurant when I am so captivated by everything else. I want to run into the walls, become part of the scenery and hunt through it. Pull Gale along like every Sunday, collect my bow but this time find new herbs and new game…

The people are Capitol people but like those wandering outside they seem relaxed and real. Truly here. Those serving don't speak and my gut curls at the thought that perhaps they are Avox's. When will we stop using them?

Then one approaches us and I remember Gale's hand in mine, his thumb stroking my wrist. "My friends are here somewhere. Name of Jennica Snowsill."

The server bows. "This way," he saws in a low voice that only hints at the Capitol accent.

Gale and I follow and when I get too caught up in our surroundings to manouever around the tables he jerks me behind him so I follow his footsteps, instead of bumping my knee painfully into other's chairs.

I finally see where we're being led. A huge circular table stands close to a tall canopy of trees with smooth peels of pale bark. Those eating around the table look normal, as far as citizens of District 2 go. There are a few girls, three I quickly count, and at least five men, but there are three empty seats and once Gale and I have sat down, someone is still missing.

Gale is instanty greeted with smiles and words of "hello" and "nice to see you again." I avoid eye contact, feeling as though I've walked in on some private meeting. Gale squeezes my hand and nudges my shoulder with his. "This is Katniss, my girlfriend," he announces.

I ignore the heat in my cheeks and look up, meeting everyone's eyes. Gale quickly goes around the table gesturing and naming everyone.

"Una," he gestures at a pale slim woman with streaked blue-black hair and gems implanted in the skin around her eyes. "Leven," is a tall man with dark hair and tanned skin. "Reena," who is small and muscled and looks amused. "Jennica," who is a few inches taller than me, I guess, blonde with light eyes. She smiles happily at me, even reaching out a hand to shake, which I do quickly, leaning over the table. "Shorin," who looks much like Jennica, but with darker green eyes. "Jeb," a twitchy red haired boy, at least two years younger than myself. "And Leo," whose long multi coloured hair is plaited, his eyes deep black. I murmur hellos to each of them before settling back in my seat, when Gale finally releases my hand.

I wonder how many of them are involved, or have been involved, in the Spikes of Mutts? Surely those who Gale has worked with, but I don't know who of those here that is. I can tell instantly that I like Reena. She is small but strong and when Leven, who must tower over her by two feet, teases her, she promptly stabs his foot with her fork and whisks it away before he can reach for it.

I realize they each have plates and the spot before me is empty. Hunger, all too familiar, is gnawing at my stomach. I place a hand there then quickly take it away but Gale still leans over. "Hungry?"

I nod and he gestures at a waiter who quickly turns the other way. I open my mouth to question it and Gale answers before I can ask. "He'll bring us something of everything, like a trial menu. It's the best way to taste everything without filling up on it."

"Oh," I say, distracted by another waiter who has placed sparkling glasses in front of us, filled with pale yellow liquid.

"The champagne is delicious," Jennica supplies when I pick it up and experimentally swish it around. "Unusually sweet."

I nodd because I really don't know anything about champagne but after taking a sip of it I realize it's the first alcohol I've tried and truly enjoyed. I take another sip then put it down, remembering what wine and Haymitch's liquor did to me.

"You were the Mockingjay, right?" asks Una, and she places her elbows on the table on either side of her plate.

I'm taken aback slightly. I haven't been addressed that way in a while. I know people recognize me, I see it in their face or their eyes, but they mostly nod or smile or don't do anything.

"Yes. Were you part of the rebellion?" I immediately regret asking the question. It's stupid now; the rebellion has been over for almost a year. Una just smiles wider.

"I dropped a bomb or two. In District Three. I used to live there."

"Why did you move?"

Una shrugs. "I had family in District 4 who needed help. I moved there then when the job got too big I moved here."

"Job?" Una looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I understand, a gang job. So she has been involved. I feel my palms tingling and getting warmer but Una seems normal. Safe, even.

"Why did you move here?" Jennica asks and before I can answer the waiter appears at my elbow, placing a small bowl of something orange and thick in front of me. He bows away before I can ask him what it is.

"There wasn't anything for Gale and I to do in District 12," I answer Jennica but I keep my eyes on the soup, touching it tentatively with my spoon. Finally I taste it and have to hold back before I throw my face into it. "He already had a job here so we packed everything up and left." I say job as though it's no big deal, as though Gale wasn't involved in a gang that was responsible for so many things.

"Oh, you're from District 12. I heard the woods are very pretty." I look up at her, wondering where she heard such a thing but Jennica hasn't said it vindictively. It isn't common knowledge there are woods around District 12, but it isn't exactly forbidden knowledge either.

I thought about her comment. They were pretty, but they were more than that. There were few times I looked at them and their beauty, few times I wasn't watching the space between trees for game or the foliage for a flicker of movement. "They are. But a lot of them burned down during the bombings." I wonder when I became so inept at speaking to others, without recalling all these horrible things.

Jennica doesn't seem to mind those. She leans forward and I see Una watching us, listening half to our conversation and half to Gale speaking with Leven.

"Gale didn't talk much about District 12 when he came here. I've always wanted to know about it. I haven't ever been outside District 2."

This is surprising. A year ago I would have accepted it easily, people hardly ever left their districts. They stayed there for life. Now though, people are moving everywhere. I've heard of some people who take the train across all of Panem, stopping in each district to explore. Jennica looks like she has money enough to do that, or at least travel to another district. "Why not?"

She lowers her eyes. "My family is here. My little brothers. Our father lives with us but he has a very demanding job so I look after my siblings. Beside, I wouldn't know where to go or what to do." She seems to brighten up. "I asked Gale if he would travel with me. When we were dating, I mean. He said he would, but that's over now."

"Oh," I say, unsure. I like Jennica, I can hardly be jealous of her and Gale, especially now he's my boyfriend. If anything, I would expect her to be jealous of me. But she isn't, she's completely happy. I see why when someone takes the last empty seat at the table. He's someone almost as beautiful as Finnick, with large eyes and curling blonde hair. He slips an arm around Jennica's waist and murmurs something to her quietly before kissing her cheek and letting his arm fall. He turns to join Gale's conversation.

"That's Crescent," Jennica supplies. "He and Gale met through the studio."

I take another sip of soup and nod. The taste is spicy, carrot and something else I can't identify. It's coming to an end too quickly.

Suddenly Reena's voice pipes up, quietly next to the deep male conversation on the other side of the table. "Tell us how you and Gale met," she says.

I put down my spoon and try to remember. "I knew of him before I met him. I mean, he lost his father the same way I did. But we met when we were hunting. I found one of his snares and he'd thought I'd stolen my squirrel out of it."

"He's always suspicious about something," Reena rolls her eyes. I grin. I can tell already that I like her. She is almost the opposite of Una, who sits tall and watching as though everything amuses her, her face and posture mature. Reena is bouncy and almost childish. Jennica is polite and a good listener. I haven't formed an opinion about them yet, but I would like to. I would like to have friends. I miss Madge, and in the games there was no room for friendship, save maybe Johanna and Finnick.

"We started to help each other. I'm still better with a bow than he is, but he can handle the trickier snares. Not that he has in a while."

"I didn't know he could do that," Jennica says, eyes wide. The corners of her mouth lift. "He's never mentioned it. He did mention a hunting partner though. That was you?"

I nod. "We traded together and we even had a pact, he looked after my family when I went into the games." I hope the last part of that sentence didn't sound forced.

"It must have been horrible for you, when you got reaped. It must have been hard to say goodbye to your boyfriend," Reena sounds sympathetic but there's still curiousity behind her words.

My cheeks feel warm. "He wasn't my boyfriend. We only started dating a little while ago. I think, a few weeks."

"So when did you know you liked him?" This comes from Una. I hadn't noticed the girls were crowding around me until now. Strangely, it doesn't feel suffocating. It feels almost conspiratorial, in a good way.

"I had for a while. I just didn't…" I don't want to bring up Peeta to them. Now isn't the time. "We just decided it would work." I finish lamely.

"Was is because of your boyfriend? The blonde one?" Jennica asks, her face serious but not judging.

I try to keep my face void of surprise. Of course everyone knows about Peeta, they saw it on every television in the Capitol. I nod and keep my eyes on my soup, finishing it quickly so I don't have to respond.

"I thought you two were cute," Jennica says. I raise my eyes to hers and she smiles. "But you and Gale are cuter."

As if on que Gale reaches over and squeezes my hand. "They brought me second course, if you're done they'll bring yours." I nod and push my soup bowl away, not surprised when a waiter picks it up and whisks it away. "You alright?" He's speaking lowly, clearly not trying to draw attention to us. I'm thankful, not really wanting attention right now.

"Yes, I like your friends. Are we going somewhere with them after lunch?"

"No," Gale's breath makes the whisp of hair by my ear tickle my lobe. "But we'll see some of them tonight. By the way, Una knows a lot about plants. She helped plant some of the ones around the meadow."

He pulls away as a server sets my next plate before me. Small potatoes, peas the size of my nails and some other chunks of vegetables in an aromatic yellow sauce.

I don't get the chance to speak to Una about plants. Leven begins a conversation that soon has the entire table involved. I hang back, not completely sure what they're talking about. It has to do with the company but there are names I don't recognize. Still, despite not understanding the bulk of it, every now and then one of the girls, or even Shorin or Jeb or Crescet or Leo, will explain something to me quickly before they rejoin the argument. Soon I've gathered that the company had three main departments divided into floors and sections. Gale worked on the top floor with Jennica and her brother Shorin; everyone else, except for Jeb, worked on the second floor. They had different jobs but knew more or less their way around each aspect of each other's.

More courses come and the speech settles down to a pleasant lull. I'm still prevented from talking to Una; partly because she and Shorin are conversing, partly because the food is as good as, if not better, than the food in the Capitol, and partly because Leo has begun speaking about his home in District 4.

"I don't look like I come from there," he says, pushing back his dark hair. "Because my mother came from District 11. But District 4 is beautiful. Especially now. The fog would just be lifting off the water and it would begin to get warm. I'd love to go back."

"Why don't you?" I ask, between mouthfuls of bread.

He gives me a wry smile. "My contract doesn't end for another year, at least. I'm here to work until they say so."

This is odd. I've always thought those who work with companies close to the Capitol were given vacation time, a luxury never afforded in District 12. "The company won't let you leave at all?"

He raises an eyebrow. " The company? Right, they are my main priority." He doesn't have to say it; I know he knows about the gangs. He has a contract with the Spikes. He must sense my discomfort because he begins asking me about coal mining, which thankfully, I have little to say about. I mention the clouds always in the air over the town and he begins asking about the town. I go through the geography carefully; amazed he can stand to hear what is, to me, incredibly boring. I like talking about District 12 though. Mother can never return, there's too much pain the ruins and bleakness. I cannot stay there because I have no reason to. I still miss it though.

Finally desert comes and everyone eats together. We fall into silence, but comfortable silence.

There is little conversation following desert. I'm still scraping the last of my mocha flavoured delicacy from the glass it came in when people rise to leave. They mutter plans as they gather their bags, I catch words here and there about "tonight" and "Revival" and "equipment." I wonder what they're planning? I wonder if Gale will go with them? With a stab of panic, I wonder if he'll bring me?

I say goodbye as well, and am surprised by a few hugs. Reena squeezes me tightly, then bounces away. Una shakes my hand and Jennica pulls me in gently, putting her cheek next to mine and smiling as she leaves. The men either smile or shake my hand and soon Gale and I are pushing back our chairs and following them from the restaurant.

I don't realize how full I am until we begin walking. Or how much I enjoyed the fake scenery of the restaurant until I can no longer see the exotic cats and hear the forest sounds.

"What was that about tonight?" I ask. Gale shrugs in response but his eyes have lit up. I glance at the sky, too calm to content to press him for answers.

The others have gone, their silhouettes disappeared into the woodsy area across the meadow, but Gale and I stay. We lay in the grass for a while, until stars begin pushing themselves out in the sky that has only just begun darkening.

Other couples and parties of friends begin leaving and the restaurant, instead of absorbing daylight, seems to radiate it. Gale and I still wander around. I am reluctant to leave and he is reluctant to leave me. He won't leave me. I'm certain.

Somehow we come back around to the issue of money. Of jobs. I ask him what I can do and he rakes a hand through his hair. "Did you learn anything in the Capitol? At all? I mean apart from training for the games." I'm about to retort angrily but he hurriedly amends. "I mean, I'm sure there are many places that will train you for the job, but they can't be any good."

I think back to the time spent in the Capitol. I don't know anything about fashion. My cooking skills are limited to groosling and berries and squirrel meat. I can't bake or paint or sketch like Peeta. I can't build like Gale. I can't heal like my Mother and Prim. I'm beginning to think there is little I can do.

I must look frustrated and sad because Gale pulls me into his arms. "Hey," he whispers in my ear. We are behind the restaurant now, where the meadow is only a thin path between the back of the building and the sretch of forest the spans out on either side of it. He rests his hands on my shoulder and rubs the spots between my neck and shoulders with his thumbs. "We'll figure something out. I can always get you a job at my old place. A good one; a safe one."

Safe. It's a concept I've never thought about in words, so blatantly. But it's been at the forefront of my mind since I can remember. Survival has been key and there are times when I panic that I'll only ever be surviving. Enduring life but not enjoying it. That's what it is to have to fight to be safe. There isn't time to worry about fun. If I'm safe here with Gale, there's so much more to my life. Which I why I need his hope right now, to fuel my own.

I rest my cheek on his chest for a moment and feel him sweep my hair over one shoulder.

Behind the restaurant is a small ladder resting against the wall, the rungs at just the right angle I can sit propped up on one. Gale doesn't join me; he stands in front of me. "We should get going soon," he glances at his watch. I noticed he started wearing one a few days after we moved here. As thought time matters here in a way it didn't matter in District 12.

"What are we doing tonight?" I ask, though I don't expect an answer.

And Gale doesn't offer one. "Surprise. But you'll have to change first. Actually," he frowns and pulls away, looking me up and down. "I should have thought of this. You won't have anything to wear."

I raise an eyebrow. When we left I took with me some of the old clothes Cinna left with me. Dresses and blouses hanging in the closet, unused. And uncharacteristically feminine and childish for me. I hope Gale isn't harbouring any hope of seeing me in them tonight. It's extremely unlikely.

Gale's face lights up. "Jennica, she could help." He focuses his gaze on me. "Would you mind borrowing something of Jennica's? She's not Cinna but she could probably help with your hair and stuff too." Gale looks slightly lost at the subject of the conversation.

"That would be alright." Truthfully I'm feeling nostalgic for my old prep team. They were stupid and vain but I cared for them.

"Great, we can call her from home."

He's moved closer to me. His hands braced on either side of the ladder and I rest my hands lightly on them, feeling his muscles move under his skin. I try to track their movement, following my skittish fingertips with my eyes until he calls my attention back to him.

"It'll be fun."

I look up and notice the pulse beating in the base of his throat. "How did we do it?"

He cocks his head to the side and draws his feat closer so his body is looming over mind by his abdomen is pressed slightly against my knees. "Do what?"

"When the rebellion ended you left. I was on morphling, a lot. I still want it sometimes. Prim was in my head all the time, and when she wasn't I was asleep and having nightmares. Now were here. Miles away, in another district. Peeta has his own bakery and maybe a gallery soon. He hardly has any episodes. You and I live together." I think of the games, everything that happened in the arena still feels so real, but like it happened to somebody else.

"I don't know how we did it. But I'm glad we did." He leans forward and gently kisses me. When he pulls away a minute later he looks up. "It's raining."

Gale tugs me off the ladder and I feel two drops hit my head.

By the time we've reached the end of the meadow we're drenched. Soaked with rain. We run through the woods and I almost veer off into the trees. The smell of wet earth and the sight of water dripping off bark and leaves, or moss darkening with damp, is alluring like nothing else. The woods offer too much to be rushed past but that's what we're doing.

Gale is pulling me along hard but he himself is tripping over roots. Rain is running down our bodies, plastering our clothes to us like paint. If I look up the sky is a vortex of grey swirling water. The woods are becoming a blur of grey and green and brown but running in the rain, recklessly, covered in mud and stray leaves.

I can feel Gale's heartbeat pounding in his hand and mine is doing the same. My breath is coming fast but I don't care. Every puff of air I suck in is damp and slides down my throat in a cool wave. My body is rushing, wave after wave of adrenaline crashing against my bones. I hear the sea in my ears and realize it isn't the sound of lapping waves but my blood pumping in my head.

I spot a beetle on a tree, iridescent and green, shining like foreign metal in the bark. On a few inches from it is a butterfly, standing out like a forest fire with its vibrant orange and red colours.

Gale looks completely focused, like he's spotted game and is chasing it. I almost feel the urge to pull my bow from my shoulder and pull back the string.

But the trees begin to thin. The scenery changes, flattens into the city. It should seem garish, ugly and open and grey after the woods. But it's like coming out of one home and into another. The rain shines silver on the pavement and trickles like teardrops down the glass buildings.

We don't slow down thought until we are far from the park. Then Gale pulls me to him and I wrap and arm around his waist, resting the other one on his chest which rises and falls erratically.

"Having a good day?" he asks me.

I nod breathlessly. "Good thing we came here."

"Here?"

I nod again. "Any other district wouldn't have felt right. The park is a pretty good reason to come here."

"It's a good reason to stay. We have more than enough reasons to stay, right?" Gale is asking- I'm almost certain he's asking- if we're settling down here. Staying, not moving or touring or fighting in foreign districts. And we are. There isn't any point to being anywhere else.

I've regained my breath, though my pulse is still sky rocketing. "More reasons everyday."

Author's Note:

Once again, sorry for posting so late. I haven't been writing lately. Partly because I'm busy and partly because I just haven't been very Hunger Games-inspired lately. I've been reading a lot of other books. After I see the movie (midnight showing opening night!) you'll probably get a lot of longer and more frequent chapters again.

So, firstly, lots of reviews make a happy author. Happy authors write more. Hint.

Secondly, this isn't strickly related to the story but I want to start another fanfiction. I'm deciding between these stories:

Wither (Chemical Garden Trilogy).

Mortal Instruments (lots of Clary/Jace action).

Wicked Lovely (lots of Ash/Seth and Donia/Keenan stuff).

Or maybe a one-shot. Haven't tried that yet.

I also want to do another fanfiction of a fairy tale so tell me your favourite one and any suggestions. I tend not to do modern retellings but I'm always open to new ideas and trying new things.

Thanks. And I promise the next chapter of Hutners will be hotter (the plans Gale has for tonight, and the 'revival' is a hint)…


	9. Chapter 9

It was dark when we reached home. Gale immediately took to the phone in the living room while I made my way upstairs to shower. His secret plans unnerved me but I was almost beyond caring about my own comfort. In this games there was little time to think of how comfortable I was with being marched in front of crowds on a chariot, dressed like a doll, or trying to win their respect in an interview.

The shower releases a lemony scent today and when I come out I dress in the same clothes I had on earlier. Gale knocks on my door and I make a vague noise to let him enter.

"Jennica said she's fine with you borrowing her clothes. I can walk you to her place then meet you again later." He leans against the doorframe. He also looks freshly showered, his hair in damp waves.

"Is she far?" I look outside. It won't be long until the district is bright with artificial light and the only ones out are either gang members or people who attend clubs and bars.

Gale runs a hand through his hair, dislodging clinging drops of water that hit the floor. "No, a five minute walk. Ready?"

I hold out my arms and raise an eyebrow. "Do I look ready?"

He walks up to me, his hands jammed in his pockets and rakes his eyes lazily up and down. I hold my breath and ignore the blood racing in my veins like the traffic outside.

"Yes. Come on Catnip," he moves back, giving me space. If I'm not mistaken his voice sounds unsteady.

I follow him down the stairs, out the door and once he's locked it we start down the street, his arm around my waist. As store and house windows light up his eyes flash in the dark.

I look up. Because of the ash-covered skies in District 12 the moon was never visible at night. Occasionally, deep in the forest when miners were asleep and it was dark, either too early or too late for me to be awake, the clouds would shift and I would catch the round silver outline of it, moving slowly.

Here the night lights of the district obscure the stars and the moon is completely hidden by their blaring reflections off the tall buildings obscuring the skies. I lean over to Gale. "Can you see the moon in the park?"

Gale's eyes follow my gaze skyward. The corners of his mouth tilt up. "Yes, pretty clearly. The stars too."

Another thing to look forward to. I'm finding those more and more often in District 2.

Jennica's house is in what Gale calls the fashion district of District 2.

"That's what she does at the company. People's hair and make up. She's also great with tech stuff, she's like Beetee, but she prefers hair and make up. Don't worry," he adds hurriedly, seeing my panic. "She's not like the prep teams in the games."

I relax again as we come to Jennica's front door. The front of her house has huge glass windows in flawless white walls but through them I can see normal furniture. Couches that are slightly worn but colourful and ornate. Tables with rulers and paper cluttered on them. A television turned off and something playing music in the background when she opens the door to us.

Her hair is in a loose bun, wisps of it escaping and brushing around her cheeks. Her face is flushed and she's only wearing a loose tank top and tight fitting pants, her hands are stained with ink.

"Hi Katniss," she smiles and reaches for my hand. I hold mine out, prepared to shake hers but she pulls me toward the door, pushing it further open so I stumble inside. She directs her smile at Gale. "You can go now. I've got it covered."

Gale chuckles. "I've heard that before." Now I begin to panic again. What has he gotten me into? But he turns to me, craning his neck to see me over Jennica's shoulder. "See you later Katniss. Call if you need anything." I'm not sure if that last part was for me or Jennica because she is quite clearly the one with the phone.

Before I can ask for help, or possibly back up, Gale is striding away, back the way we came.

"Where's he going?" I ask as Jennica closes the door and leads me through her house. It reminds me of Madge's, which I've been in only a couple of time. But its more homely and lived in. I wonder if she's the only one who lives here, there are many possessions scattered everywhere, including clothes that look too big for her.

"Probably to see Shorin. Or Crescent. Leo's working tonight so he won't be there." She seats herself at a table and mutters for a moment before making a mark on a piece of fabric.

"Be where?" I ask, hoping Gale's secrecy doesn't extend within his entire circle of friends. But the odds aren't in my favour. Jennica smiles and shakes her head.

"Nuh uh. Not telling." She makes another mark and puts down the pen, slowly turning to look at me. "So, what do you like?"

I blink. "What?"

"To wear? What do you like to wear?" She waits patiently, expectantly.

I shrug. "I don't know. I don't think about it."

She looks exasperated. "Why not? I saw you in the games. You looked stunning. But you really don't care? You're just like Gale." As she speaks she circles me, taking in my clothes, my figure and my hair. I realize just now that though she is slim she has light lines of muscle in her arms and legs, and she is more than an inch taller than me.

"Gale doesn't care what he wears?"

She pauses and tilts my face up, studying it like a map. "Most of the time. He has to sometimes, for the company. And yes, I mean the company."

I hadn't thought the gang was much into looks but the thought crossed my mind perhaps Gale had an image to maintain with them. _Not anymore_.

"How do you feel about black?" she backs away again and leads to a closet I hadn't even noticed, pulling the doors open ceremoniously.

"I like black." I'm unused to giving my opinions on what I wear. In the games, that was Cinna's job.

"Hm," Jennica mutters some more as she searches the racks of her closet. There are so many. Colours and textures blend together in some coordinated vibrant symphony. Sequins and leather and lace blur as she pulls out sparkling and thin clothing, then pushes it back, abandoning it in search of something better.

Eventually she emerges with a black shirt, tight with a plunging necklice but sleeves that roll down to the elbow. The pants she hands me have a low waist and taper down near the cuffs.

"There's a curtain over there," she points. "Come out when you're done."

I pick my way across Jennica's living room and pull the curtain closed behind me. Privacy was not a luxury I got with the prep team, but then again, them seeing my naked body didn't bother me as much as Jennica seeing it would. It's hard to imagine her as one of the bird-like chattering beauticeans, primping tributes before serving them on a platter like a roast pig.

The shirt is comfortable, but my skin prickles where the air hits my chest. The pants are harder to get into and when I have finally slid them on my pelvic bone lies bare.

When I emerge, slightly chilly with my hair coming out of it's braid Jennica is half dressed up. She is still in her tank top but on her bottom half she wears a silver skirt of some diaphanous material andher hair hans in loose waves, framing her face. She looks up and frowns.

"I don't like the shirt. The pants are nice. What do you think?"

I look down at myself. _Like Cinna, be honest_. "It doesn't feel like me."

She holds my shoulders and put my before a mirror. Everything from below my neck belongs to a stranger.

"I think it's just the shirt. We can change that. Or you can change into this," she holds up a black dress of even thinner material than the shirt I've already got on. "I don't think this is any more you though."

I shake my head. "I'll try another shirt." To be honest, the pants aren't that bad. Or the boots Jennica pushes into my hands along with a leather shirt.

The boots have short heels, thin ones. The shirt is the most surprising aspect of the outfit. It leaves me feeling even more exposed and cold than the last one. I doesn't cover my shoulders, it doesn't even have straps. Instead is rests a few inches below my collarbone, showing part of the swell of my chest. It cinches in at the waist, seams drawn out clearly in the black leather. It slips on, allowing for the difference between the width of my shoulders and the size of my waist with stretchy material at the back, the effect of which is hidden when Jennica pulls the back together with silver snaps. She doesn't turn me to the mirror but instead scrutinizes the outfit.

"It's almost perfect. She goes through three bowls or shining metallic and glass beads before pull out a short beaded necklace. It hangs with red beads, gold pieces of glass glittering in them like embers, but the red is crimson, so dark it's almost black in the dim light. It hangs around my throat higher than my collarbone, but not so high as to choke me.

"Your hair." She sits me at a table and silently runs her hands through my braids to untangle them.

"What about your outfit?" I ask, feeling guilty, and a little annoyed when she yanks a brush through my hair, that she is spending all her time on my outfit, instead of her own.

"It won't take me long. Crescent and I won't be staying late and I had my clothes and makeup laid out before you got here. You are a different case." The brushing is done but now she twists tendrils of my hair around her fingers before letting them fall in slightly more controlled waves.

"How did you meet Crescent?" I ask politely.

"We were in the underground," she begins and I stiffen, then force myself to relax. Thankfully she hasn't noticed and continues on. "I met this guy, he offered me a job in the market. I didn't want to be sold, I told his where he could put his offer and it didn't sit well with him. He got me back later. I was watching a fight ring because back then I did." She shrugs but I can feel her discomfort. She isn't proud she used to watch the matches. "He slipped something into my drink. It was morphling and something else, but he dragged me halfway across the district underground before I could even think. I was almost out of it but Crescent showed up. I didn't know him well, just that he worked with Gale. He got me out of there. I don't know what happened to the dealer, I haven't seen him since and Crescent just promised I wouldn't have to worry about it again." The tugging on my hair stops and now she's gently rubbing her fingertips over my eyelids. As she spoke I felt warm air on my cheeks.

"That was nice of him." I can't think of anything else to say. Jennica's story is almost as terrifying as the games. The games are over but it seems like the kind of horror and fear that came with it will never leave. Thanks to the underground.

"It was." There's a smile in her voice. My eyelashes twitch as she runs what feels like a brush over them. "I was still dating Gale then. But Crescent and I became better friends and it wasn't long after the break up that we became something more."

She puts down the brush and runs another finger over my lips. "Open," she says.

I open my eyes and look at her, blinking slightly to get used to the sparkly powder she caked my face in. I earn a smile from her and she pulls me into a tall position. "Go look in the mirror," she directs me to the floor length one on the opposite wall.

The girl in the mirror is a stranger. She has thin legs, but the pants she wears flares out at the hips. The shirt shows a strip of flesh above my pants and even more flesh near my collarbone. If I moved this wear and that I can see the height the heels give me, the flash of the beaded necklace and the sparkle of the black eye shadow and mascara that draw my eyes into huge silver orbs. My lips are just a shade more red than usual and I draw a sharp breath in through them when I feel my hair tickle my bear shoulders in cascading waves when I move.

"I like it," Jennica whispers behind me, close enough that I feel it on my skin. She runs her fingers through a few tangles in my hair then seems satisfied and searches around for a shirt, finally dredging one up from a pile of colours.

"Thank you," I say because while I don't have a completely positive opinion of it, and I'm still unsure as to if that's me in the mirror or not, she put effort into this look. I wonder if Gale suspects any of this.

Jennica slips the shirt on and resumes her make up. "Are you hungry?" She asks.

I can't imagine being hungry after the meal we ate. "No, I think I'm still full. Possibly to bursting."

She smiles. "You might need energy later, but they have energy drinks there."

Energy drinks? I've heard of drinks or substances people take to make themselves faster or stronger. Food gives you energy; all I can imagine in an energy drink is sugar or some artificial nutrient the Capitol produces. I try to whipe obvious distaste from my face at the thought of it.

Jennica seems to work quickly, her hand blurring over her face until it is just short of rapturous. She still looks human, but very beautiful. She stands and quickly checks the time.

"Una might meet us on the way. If not we'll meet Reena when we're there. Oh, and you'll get to meet Sasha. He wasn't at lunch but he works for the company as well."

I nod politely, looking for something to cover my bare shoulders with. Jennica tosses me a jacket. I pull it on quickly and go to pick up my bundle of clothes but she stops me.

"Keep them here. You won't need them tonight and you can come get them later. I'm at work all day tomorrow but Gale probably still has a spare key. You guys can pop by."

I work hard to train my face to show no emotion, but small flames of jealousy lick my insides. Gale still has a key to Jennica's. _They're friends_, I argue with myself. I still feel that treacherous protective streak.

Jennica and I pick our way through the haphazard piles of clothing to the front door. The temperature outside has gone up and if I weren't wearing the strapless shirt I would shed the jacket. It's humid but peaceful, like a lazy summer night in District 12 after we'd had a good haul.

"Where are we going?" I ask Jennica. She begins leading us toward the darker streets where the lights are off and the streelights dim or broken. The glass windows surrounding us cast back warped silver reflections.

"Where Gale asked me to bring you," she answers and ducks down an alleyway. The alley is free of people but my nerves begin to twist anyway. She turns back when I hesitate. "It's safe. Trust me."

I do. I try to. I follow her, putting up my hands on the walls to catch myself when I trip in Jennica's high boots.

She gracefully sashes to the end of the alley and pushes open a heavy grey door, it groans and reveals an even darker passage beyond it. Here I stop completely.

"Katniss, Gale wouldn't ask me to bring you here unless he thought you were safe, right?"

I nod but my nervousness of what's beyond the door, in the hallway, is telling every nerve right now to stay in the light. It isn't the darkness, but I feel the ahllway is leading somewhere else. Somewhere secret and quiet that the rest of the district doesn't know of.

"You want to see the underground, don't you?"

That stirs something back into me. It's curiousity and something else. Something livid that feels like danger but I recognize it as excitement. I do want to see the underground, and that is where Jennica's taking me. That is where Gal is waiting, to show me around and fulfill his promise.

"Yes Jennica. Lead the way."

She smiles and makes for the door again, this time I follow her on shaking legs.

As it swings behind us and brings with it lightlessness I can hear the smile in her voice. "It's Jenna. Call me Jenna. Come on, it's down the stairs."

I keep a handclose to her arm, not touching but close enough I can feel the heat coming off of her and can follow without getting lost. A couple of times I stumble and mutter something about the stupid shoes but Jenna brushes it off. Finally we get the what feels like the end of the hallway. It has narrowed and Jenna begins moving downward, then away from me.

"It's a circular staircase. Just put your hand on the rail."

The railing is cold metal, smooth to touch. Briefly I remember the train. The way it shook like the stairs beneath me now. The rattling sound and metallic feel. The nights when I opened my eyes to try and escape the torrent of images I saw in my nightmares but the darkness just welcomed a new void to see them in.

I hate being trapped this way. Encased the way my father was when the mine collapsed, forever in darkness.

Finally there is light. It outlines the shape of a door in a dusty room at the bottom of the stairs. It is bright enough that Jenna's eyes flash as she puts a hand on the handles. Inside is thumping sound, like many people stomping their feet in some discoordinated rhythym.

"Are you ready?" She smiles slowly. I feel almost naïve, like a small child everyone cannot wait to induldge with their first treat of the grown up world. Perhaps this is some initiation into the underground.

Ignoring the dizzy feeling in my head, the alternating numbness and prickling into figners and toes, and my dry throat I answer. "Yes."

Jenna smiles just a little wider before pushing the door open.

Once, when I was very young, just after Prim's birth, there was a problem in the square in District 12. A peacekeeper was unwell. He had succumbed to bitterness and sorrow that turned to anger and hate. He had lost his entire family through sickness and starvation. He began to rant, and while people avoided him at first, he became violent. He picked up his gun and began to shoot.

Crowds panicked. Parents grabbed their children, or just shouted at them to run, then ran for themselves. They ran in all directions, seeking shelter. Some of them ran toward me. I was in the middle of the road, waiting for my father to finish a trade. He did not see the crowd until I was in the middle of them.

So many bodies, hot and smelling of dirt and coal. They blocked out the sun even more than the coal clouds did. They were screaming, their rushing feet making sounds like thunder as they ran. It was dark, hot and loud.

That's what the club is like. I have no doubt that's where Jenna's brought me. Beyond the door are masses of bodies, some with tattoos or piercings or stained skin and oddly shaped or coloured hair. Their clothes are foreign or they are scantily clad. The lighting is almost non-existent but some lights of different colours flash from small corners of the room. There is an empty stage; no one is playing, yet music blasts from a hundred directions, pounding itself into my ears and bones. The floor is shaking and as people dance, matching their movements to the beat, the walls and ceilings release clouds of dust and plaster.

I can see a bar along on wall, a tired bartender behind it in a velvet vest, with spiked maroon hair. Others sit on the stools. One of them looks familiar, but I can't be sure.

A hot hand on my back pushes me into the swelling heat of the room; far enough inside she can pull the door closed behind us.

"You alright?" Jenna shouts t me, but her voice melts into the deafening din, just another part of the wall of sound assaulting me. I nod back, not trusting my voice to carry over the noise.

"Let's find Gale, that way!" She points toward the bar and takes my hand, winding us between the crowds. More than once I feel hands brush me, at my hips or waist. I ignore them and speed up.

When we've finally burst through the edge of the crowd the bar is cool metal to my fingertips as I put my hands squarely down on it to steady myself.

The bar is long but I finally see whom I recognized earlier. Its Leven, his hair pulled back, chatting to Reena. They are part of a larger group and if I squint through the slight fog from everyone's accumulated body heat I can see Gale.

He doesn't look as he normally does. In fact, it's chilling to see him looking so like a stranger. Like I don't know him at all. His hair seems darker, his clothes are all black and he's wearing heavy boots and a button up jacket with multple straps and pockets with tarnished silver buttons. His skin already looks damp and flushed. The effect makes my stomach turn over, partly because I want to touch him, partly because I feel like I'm meeting him all over again.

Jenna doesn't notice. She's spotted Crescent next to Gale and waves. The look they share is the same look Annie and Finnick exchanged, when they were reunited in District 13 and he refused to let go of her hand. I wonder if others see that when they look at Gale and I?

As I approach Gale doesn't notice me. I try to stay behind Jenna. The outfit isn't me. I don't feel like myself. Dressed up, in a club, late at night. Gale doesn't feel like hisself. I don't want to stand before him and feel like a stranger.

Jenna steps up to Crescent, taking his hand and giving him a kiss on the cheek but not moving between his conversation with Gale. He stops all the same and turns his green-eyed gaze on her. Without her to hide behind I'm utterly exposed and Gale only takes a second to flicker his gaze to me. The look he gives me as his eyes travel from my face to my boots and back again is slow and unrelenting, I squirm and cross my arms across my chest. Strangely that does nothing for my comfort.

He stops at my face and grins. "Hi Catnip. Nice night?" I can't be sure but his voice sounds unsteady.

"Yes." I can't think of anything else to say. I turn back to the crowds dancing. It's dark and more than one of them look drunk, or just out of it, but they seem harmless. Still, that only makes them more dangerous. "So this is the underground?"

Gale shrugs, his grin slipping. "Part of it. There's more. But I wanted to bring you here first."

"Why?"

He shrugs again and pulls me toward him. I feel the heat rising off his skin in waves, like heat off a road in the summer. He slides a hand under my jacket and around my waist. I make an effort not to tense or flinch away, and then chide myself for being foolish. Right now Gale isn't my hunting partner from District 12, he's the same warrior I saw fighting in the rebellion. All fire and power, but it's a different fire now. He isn't looking around with hatred or anger. Instead he's staring at me with something else in his gaze. Something deadly but sleepy.

"What?"

He doesn't answer but slips another arm around my waist and pulls me into his lap. We don't usually do this. I don't. Public affection is strange and foreign but when I look up, cheeks burning, nobody is watching us. Crescent and Jenna are in their own world. Reena and Leven are talking. And the one with bronze hair and dark skin who I must think is Sasha is speaking with Una. Everyone is in their own world, including Gale and I.

I relax into his embrace, feeling myself begin to overheat in the jacket. "What are we doing tonight?" I ask.

"We'll stay here for a while," Gale's hand slides up my back to my shoulders and eases the jack off one of them. The pulse in the base of his throat quickens and he brushes his hand over the skin there. I have to calm my own breathing forcibly. "Then we'll go see the market," he slides the other shoulder off. "Then we'll see some entertainment," he pulls the jacket down my arms. "And then we'll go home." The jacket is off and roughly tossed onto the bar. Gale, with half lidded eyes places a soft kiss on my collarbone but I can feel him trembling and I wonder if he is holding back as much as I am.

I brush my fingers over the back of his neck where the skin is soft and tilt his face up to mine. My mouth opens beneath his, readily. His hands are digging into my hips but one moves up my spine, cupping my shoulder blade, then my neck an he pulls me deeper into the kiss. When he kisses the junction between my shoulder and neck I try to hold onto the little noise that escapes my throat but I can't and it comes out, sounding very audible to me even next to the music.

I should pull back. We're around other people. We're in an unsafe place. The underground; which I don't know. But he's pulling me hard against him, making my hips rest on his, making me want to go too fast.

Suddenly I feel him pull away. His lips are kiss-swollen, his eyes hazy. He clears his throat before speaking. "Want to dance?"

I don't want to dance. I want to stay here and feel what I was just feeling. I don't want anyone's hand on me but Gale. But he wants to dance. I wonder what dancing with him is like, and I remember that I have seen him dance before. At the festival. With Madge. "Let's dance." I stand quickly and pull him up, then turn and lead him into the mass of people, fearing I'll lose his hand and his in the crowd but he grips my fingers tightly as I make space for us somewhere in the middle.

The music is fast, something angry and hot and metallic I'm not used to. I don't know how to dance to it. I watch Gale watching me and feel self-conscious.

Gale gives me a questioning look so before he can ask me I push him into another kiss. A hand brushes my thigh and I pull back. "Was that you?" I ask. He gives me another questioning look and I realize his hands are on my arms. I hope he doesn't notice my blushing in the dark.

"I told you," he says next to my ear. "People will definitely want you." He says it jokingly, remembering what he said to me about being propositioned, but there is an edge to his voice. The same one he used to adopt when talking about Peeta.

"I don't know how to dance," I confess, ducking my head and looking at our sandwiched bodies instead of at his face.

"Just move your hips," he instructs me, as though it's the easiest thing in the world. I may not be pure, but hearing him say it like that makes me sound naïve. I don't know how to dance this way. Only the staged slow dances at Peeta's and my wedding party, or the dance in District 12.

I pull away slightly and look around, watching the way others move. They aren't coordinated but their movements look effortless, they aren't trying at all. They feel the music, bounce to it, while I feel Gale staring at me, no doubt smirking.

"Here," he says and before I can question him his fingers are around my wrist, spinning me in a circle before lining me up with his body, pulling my back flush against his chest. His body is already moving, his abdomen and legs swaying to the crashing and bass sounds. Right against him, my body is moving the same way now.

His hand brings mine up and around the back of his neck where his hair is warm and his skin slightly damp. His hands trail down my sides, lightly but enough to make me shiver, and land on my hips, holding firmly. One hand takes my free one, entwining his fingers in mine.

The music gets rougher and Gale moves faster, I feel my own heart knocking against my ribs, unsure if it is beating in time with the music or his heart.

"You okay?" His lips brush my neck and whatever heat is in the room, spikes across my skin.

"Yes. How long will we dance for?"

He chuckles. "Are you bored already? It's barely been three minutes."

"Oh." I frown. Dancing is fun and the music isn't awful, but it can only hold my attention so long.

The rest of it belongs to Gale.

I turn my head slightly and his lips are already there, waiting for me.

The kiss begins innocently. A brush of my lips against his. But he leans down and presses harder against my mouth and I go pliant in his arms. He drops both hands to spin me by the hips and pull me against him. The kiss pours through me, my organs turning to liquid fire.

He pulls away, long enough to walk me backward while I gasp for air. His hands are pushing up my leather shirt, enough that he can slip them around my waist. My back hits the brick of the wall and it is strangely cool. The same heat as the rest of the club, but almost cold in comparison to Gale. I don't have time to think about it. He bends his mouth over mine and I nip his bottom lip. His body jerks but he only pulls my tighter against him. One of the hands tickling my ribs makes it's way down my leg, the heat of his palm searing through leather, and pulls my knee up to his hip.

If I thought anyone was watching, I would pull away, just stare at him with the want I feel right now. But he is all heat and hardness, fire in his skin over stretched muscles and abdomen.

He pulls away from the kiss, perhaps to take more air, but the next kiss he places is at my collarbone and going lower. He kisses along the hem of my shirt as I breathe deeply into his hair, tangling my fingers in the end of it.

"Gale," I say, breathe the words and it only makes him worse, or better depending on how you see it. He places an open mouthed kiss on the border of my shirt and skin.

"Gale, please, stop."

It takes him a moment, a moment in which his kisses become lighter and I feel his brow furrow as he brings his head up from my chest.

"We're in public," I say, slowly regaining my breath.

I watch him work his throat and when he speaks his voice is low and rough. "Okay. Does this mean we're done dancing?"

I nod and pull away, but keep a hand on his waist. I turn away from him and scope the club for the rest of the group. Jennica is dancing, clearly with the skill I lack. Everyone has either melted into the crowd or is still talking at the bar.

"What else is in the underground?" I ask, taking Gale's hand and edging around the crowd.

Gale sighs. "I wish you were more easily distracted." He leads me away from the bar, toward a door opposite the one we entered.

I frown. "Aren't we waiting for the others?"

"No," Gale has to yell over the new din of the music. "They're staying here. They have to go to work tomorrow but it won't be the first time they get this little sleep."

I don't say anything, saving my voice until we're in the piece and quiet, where it's easier to speak.

The door Gale pulls me through leads to a dank hallway. There are dim lights on the walls, slick with grime and the floor is wet and cold. My breaths come out in small puffs and the metal of the door feels like ice.

"It won't be this cold ahead," Gale informs me, meanwhile rubbing his hands over my arms.

"Where's your jacket?" I ask. If he has it we could share it.

"It wasn't mine. I left it with Sasha."

"I should have thanked Jennica. I'm still in her clothes." Which aren't at all helpful for staving off the cold.

In the dim silver light Gale's hair is even darker, but his grey eyes are rounds a luminous. His skin is damp, shining and his shirt clings to him slightly. His pants are hanging low on his hips and a line of tanned skin shows between them and his shirt.

"You can see her tomorrow. Trust me, she won't mind. She probably won't notice they're gone."

**Note:**

Firstly, I have a new fanfic of Wicked Lovely. It's of Donia and Keenan but I will be starting another with Ash and Seth soon. I will also be starting a Mortal Instruments fanfic soon, and a Wither fanfic so please check those out.

Secondly, this is so lame; I'm incredibly technologically inepdt. How do I turn on anonymous reviews?

I love hints, suggestions, praise and even constructive criticism (emphasis on the constructive).

Thanks guys, until next time (which I'm trying to make soon but it's a busy time)!


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